Dreamscape
by Armadilloi
Summary: What would you do if everyone and everything you held dear were suddenly erased from existence except in your dreams?  Charah at the beginning and end but OFC in the middle. The following chapters are addenda and cover some of season 3
1. Making Ends Meet

LifeTimes

* * *

This is absolutely the last original thing I'm writing. Unless the mood strikes me really hard or I have to sit in motel rooms while my best girl interviews with stodgy old guys (like me) for a teaching position. I promise, I'll finish the GEG and Kappa and Flashback. APR

* * *

Ring R&D Laboratory  
March 2010

"Bartowski, any time now!" Casey spoke into his mic, trying to keep his balance on the narrow platform that was slowing retracting into the wall below the blast door they'd been trying to escape through. His partner was frantically keying in the sequence to open the blast door but there was still no power to the unit.

"Casey, the main power line into the service modules is fried and a 6 inch section of the heavy cabling is just…gone. I can't find anything to bridge it. There's nothing here I can use. How much time do you guys have? I can try and find a maintenance room or something to…"

"Thirty seconds, Bartowski. Then it won't matter. It's a six-story drop. Use your head, do something!" Chuck knew it was bad if Casey sounded panicky.

He made the only possible decision.

"I love you, Sarah. There's only one thing to use."

The pair heard the a crackling in their headsets and then the lights came back on, the platform stopped receding into the door frame and the keypad blinked, demanding an entry code.

"You did it, Chuck. We'll meet you in the van. I – I do too." She'd never said it before. She thought it a lot but never came right out and said it. He'd said it a lot. Lately, he seemed disappointed and even surly when she nodded or looked away, unable to say those three words he wanted to hear.

Casey smirked. _Well, finally. _He looked at his partner and then frowned. The moron should have come back with some girly sound, a squeal perhaps? "Bartowski? Bartowski, respond!"

The blast door slowly rose and then abruptly stopped as power died out as suddenly as it had been restored. The partners rolled under the gap into the hallway. It was a tight squeeze for Casey but he finally wiggled through. All he thought about was 'what if the door dropped?' It was a powerful motivator. There was no telling what other surprises this death trap might have.

"Walker, Chuck's not responding. Did you catch what he said?"

"There was nothing he could use to bridge the gap. The room was empty…Oh, God!"

She shouted his name into the mic as if she could prompt a response by the volume and panic in her voice.

They ran to the power room but it was too late. He'd grabbed the severed ends of the cable and used his body to bridge the gap, holding on long enough to get power to the service modules before losing consciousness.

And releasing his hold on the cable ends.

And dying.

* * *

The NSA medics got him breathing again on his own and bagged his burned hands and transported him to the hospital. Ellie was called and the cover was that John Casey and Chuck had been installing a server when it was hit by a power surge and Chuck was burned. It was quickly backed up by suitable entries in the various job logs for the Burbank Buy More.

Burbank General Hospital  
Burbank, CA

Sarah stood in the doorway to his room. He wasn't allowed visitors unless they were masked and gowned and there wasn't anything she could do when she was in there anyway. He was unconscious and being prepped for surgery on his hands. Ellie had explained it but she was really too upset to comprehend most, OK, almost anything she said.

"Sarah, he's going to be fine. In a way it's a blessing he's unconscious. The pain from his burns would be horrible for him to bear. The neurologists are trying to figure out what's happening in that brain of his. He's got activity so there's no brain damage but we won't really know that for sure until he wakes up. He should be awake by this time tomorrow, I'm sure."

Sarah just nodded her head and worried her thumbnail. He looked so…frail and pale and she wanted him awake so she could tell him her secret since she hadn't had the guts to tell him over the comm unit.

Casey had reported the incident to General Beckman and he wasn't a bit surprised at the General's response.

"As soon as he regains consciousness, test him. Make sure he's still holding on to version 2. Now, report back to me via email daily. Have Agent Walker maintain a 'vigil' and then prepare for reassignment if the prognosis is poor or he doesn't respond to treatment. You will maintain a presence, use guilt as a reason, and perform due diligence. That is all."

She hung up and Casey cursed the woman out. 'Unfeeling' was the kindest adjective he used.

* * *

Skin grafts were performed and his hands appeared to be accepting them and his condition stabilized but he was still unconscious after six weeks. Sarah was ordered back to DC for reassignment. Her skills were too valuable to be wasted waiting for the host to recover. It wasn't going to happen.

"Well, partner, I never thought I'd say this to a CIA agent but I'll miss you. You were a good partner. I'll watch over him until I'm reassigned. I'll give you progress reports via email. You'll be back where you belong in no time at all."

She couldn't speak, just nodded her head. She didn't trust herself not to fall apart (again) in front of her ex-partner. She'd already done that daily for the past few days as reassignment loomed.

* * *

Ellie received a letter setting up a 'blind trust' in the amount of $300,000 established by the insurance company that 'covered' Buy More employees. She finally folded and had Chuck transferred to a long-term care facility (read 'nursing home' or 'hospice') for coma patients. It was the hardest thing she'd ever done in her life. She felt like she was turning her back on her brother but had no choice.

Casey was reassigned after three months. His skills were needed elsewhere. Thee was no point at all having an over watch on something that could best be described as a vegetable that breathed.

Two weeks and 3 days later, the sleeper awoke.

Ellie was called and got stopped twice by the CHP on her way upstate to Chuck's hospice. Both times she was told to keep it under 90 and let go. She obviously wasn't lying and had the medical credentials to back up her claim.

* * *

Mountain Home Long Term Care Facility  
Carmel, CA

"Chuck, I'm so happy to see you're finally awake. Don't talk, sweetie. Just nod your head. I know you're confused and scared but it's going to be all right now. We'll get you home and into physical therapy and you'll be right as rain before you know it."

He 'remembered' parts of what had happened but nothing except vague images. He'd experienced those images and countless others again and again the entire time he'd been 'asleep'.

The doctors were thrilled to see Chuck go. Not that he was a bad patient. He was no different than the other sleepers and had required only minimal care.

He was one of the rare instances where a comatose patient actually 'awoke'. His doctor wrote up the discharge orders and handed them to an overworked charge clerk who pulled up Chuck's records and began entering the information when a Code Blue interrupted her work and she rushed to be of assistance. She closed Chuck's folder and put it on the pile and rushed to the ward.

While she was assisting a doctor, another clerk saw the pending entries and pulled up the next folder and entered the patient's date of death and disposition of the remains. The cause of death was 'systemic failure'. She finished her entry and then left the workstation to the returning clerk. Neither were aware of the error and neither one was paid enough to bother verifying the data.

An NSA analyst responsible for monitoring the condition of agents in medical facilities entered the hospice computer where 'Bartowski, C' was being treated and noted the date of death and disposition of the remains.

Insurance benefits were paid out to his next of kin and his file closed out and transferred to the inactive database. Dead agents were indeed inactive.

When Eleanor Bartowski received an insurance check for $100,000.00 she was confused but then remembered that Casey told her that Chuck was maxed out on the Buy More disability and other arrangements were being made. She assumed these were the results and endorsed the check over to her brother. It was his money.

* * *

Casa Bartowski  
Burbank, CA

Chuck was plagued by things he couldn't understand. He just knew things. Strange and sometimes wonderful things but skills and traits and abilities he'd never had before. He also couldn't remember a damned thing that occurred after his birthday in 2007. Ellie told him it was both normal and expected. Those memories would return. He just needed patience and time.

"But Ellie, three years, almost three years! What happened to me during that time? This is bugging the crap out of me. What did I do for three years?"

He'd never mentioned Sarah. Not once. It was like he was ignoring her absence. She decided not to mention her to him. If he chose to handle her absence by ignoring her existence, so be it. It was better than mooning around pining for a 'Jill'. She was just so damned glad he was alive and back home.

Ellie had purged any signs of the presence of 'Sarah Walker' from their apartment before Chuck came home. A cleaner team couldn't have done better.

"Ellie, I think I need to see a shrink. Really. I'm having the most vivid dreams about stuff I can't possibly know about and I'm afraid the accident fried more than my hands." He worked his hands using dexterity and strengthening exercises while they talked. Feeling had returned and he was managing to run the entire sequence of dexterity and strength exercises every day. A very good thing. He just couldn't feel pain in his hands or arms, none at all. He still could feel by touch but pains such as shots or IV insertions went unfelt. 'A really good thing' from his point of view.

"Really? Well, you can afford it. Is it counseling or therapy or just need someone to talk to, little brother? I can't remember the last time you had a date and you haven't left the house since you got here. Try getting out and meeting people again. If things don't improve, I'll talk to someone in the Psych department for a referral."

* * *

Large Mart Plaza  
Burbank, CA

Things did improve. A lot. He cautiously drove Ellie's car to the plaza and walked into Lou's. He saw her and had a brief moment of total disorientation but then he knew her. He knew everything about her. He knew they'd dated and that she hated him for something he couldn't quite remember.

She saw him and after a flicker of recognition and a huge smile, she walked over to him and grabbed him by the shirt collar and pulled him down to her level. "I heard you got hurt, Bartowski, and I'm glad to see the rumors are wrong. You're not a carrot in an institution. You're a welcome sight. C'mon, I'll make you our world famous 'Chuck' for old times' sake."

* * *

They dated 'exclusively' after the first month. After three months' time, Chuck moved in with her. The dreams hadn't stopped but she'd offered an astonishing solution: write them down and read them to her. Together maybe they could figure things out.

He wrote a long and rambling story that went all over the place but basically told the tale of a guy who hacked into a government database and learned things he shouldn't have. He got caught but someone smart figured they could use his skills and so they partnered him up with a pair of spies named…he couldn't remember their names or see their faces. It was frustrating. He knew he knew them but he couldn't 'see' them. Oh, but he could hear them just fine.

"_Bartowski, you fucking moron, get over here!_" Or "_Chuck, damn it, stay in_ _the van_."

He knew the voices. He just couldn't see their faces or remember their names. He made names up for them. The man was Jackson Macy and the woman was Serena Cole. For some reason he hated the name Cole but figured if his subconscious suggested it, it would fit.

* * *

They were in bed and Chuck had finished his first 'dream chapter' and was listening to his naked little editor critique his work. He tried to concentrate but he was a guy and she was definitely a girl with nice and soft...

"Chuck, pay attention. You can play with them later. Concentrate." He grinned and she pulled the sheet up over her shoulder in an attempt at changing his perspective.

"Chuck, except for the fact that you ramble on and take forever to make a point, this is great stuff. You could break this up into chapters and add your next dream or two and have a damned novel ready for the publisher. This is great dialogue and interaction, honey. It's real and visceral but the nerd and the spy gal? Not possible. It's not believable at all but the rest is so _real_!" Ellie had begged her not to mention Sarah Walker to Chuck. It would just be a dagger in his heart since he couldn't remember any of the past years.

"You really think so, Lou? I mean, I don't mind you saying it's crap if it is. But those are the dreams and I don't want to change any of it. It just feels incomplete if I leave out the spy chick."

"Fine. Have it your way." She tossed the stapled pages onto the floor beside their bed. Dropping the sheet and smiling seductively, she leaned over him. "Go ahead, big boy. Play." She giggled and rolled onto him, reveling in what could only be termed 'foreplay' and anticipating the main event. They were good together.

* * *

Two weeks later

It turned out that Lou knew a guy who knew a guy who was a fledgling publisher. He was a failed writer (among other things but we'll get to those) but got things published for others. His shortcoming was that he didn't have the capital to launch a proper book sale.

She called the guy and then had Chuck email excerpts from his writing for the publisher to read over and tell him what he thought. They didn't hear a thing from him for a few weeks and Chuck just kept pounding out more 'dreamstuff' as they both laughingly called it and neither thought more of it. His outlook on life seemed more positive and his attitude was so much better. There were no more long introspective silences that used to scare her.

* * *

APR


	2. Dreaming Himself a Future

LifeTimes2

**A/N: This is only 5 chapters long. I've decided to wipe out 3 others because they're just expanded Charah. Live with it. **

**APR  
Erie, PA**

* * *

"Lou, where are we going with this?" He asked her out of the blue after they'd come in from grocery shopping and were putting everything away.

He'd been turning something over in his mind since the previous evening.

"Honey, we're going to eat it. Or use it to clean up stuff. Or…" She stopped. He had an amused look on his face. He hadn't meant it literally and he sure as hell wasn't talking about groceries.

"Oh, no, Chuck. Please don't ask me that. Please don't. If you want to break up, just say 'bye, Lou' and take your shit and get out!" From 'Oh, no' to 'get out!' Chuck got to see her Italian temper flare in both volume and intensity. It would have been funny if it had been aimed at anyone but him.

"But, Lou, I don't want to break up, sweetheart. I – I – never mind. I don't want to break up. I was talking about the damned 'book' you got me to write. Where are we going with it? I like writing. I really do. And thank God for spellchecker and I appreciate my little Italian editor and critic but what's the point?"

She immediately calmed down and hugged him. He was way too tall to kiss comfortably with both of them standing so she climbed up on the chair and kissed him, softly at first and then with increasing passion. Anger turned to something else and he got a full dose of that, too.

"I'm sorry. I was afraid you were going to break up with me. I'll call the publisher guy tomorrow for sure. I'm sorry I lost my temper, Chuck. Forgive me?"

Another round of frantic and fun make-up sex left them both exhausted and the kitchen counter and floor a mess. Someone had kicked a 5-pound package of flour onto the floor.

Chuck made it a habit to pick Lou up at work when she was closing. He didn't like the idea of her making the deposit and closing up all by herself. She just laughed and took it in stride. It was just his way of showing her he cared.

* * *

Chuck pulled up in front of the Deli and sighed. Three last-minute customers. He had dinner warming in the oven and he didn't want it drying out. She'd been on her feet all day and deserved a decent meal and then a foot massage and a hot soak.

He tried to open the door but it was locked. That wasn't something she normally did. He saw her say something to the one big guy and he said something to the other who walked over and opened the door for him. He locked it behind Chuck.

"Get over there and sit down and you won't get hurt, Romeo. Your girlfriend's going to give us the cash and then we'll take her to a party. You'll get her back in the morning if you don't call the cops." He had a small pistol in his hand.

Something hurt in his head and he felt a moment of disorientation. He turned and hit the shorter hood in the throat with the ridge of his hand and then ran towards the big guy who was pointing a small pistol at Lou. He watched himself vault across the serving counter and kick the thug in the face with the soles of his shoes. He reached down and grabbed and twisted his throat and then turned toward the last would-be robber and rapist.

Panicked, the last man bolted for the door but it was locked and he was too scared to figure out the simple deadbolt. He heard Chuck lumbering towards him. He turned and pulled out a pistol and shot at Chuck and Lou. He was dead before the third shot could be fired.

Lou started crying when she saw the big man lying on the floor, his head twisted at an unnatural angle. His eyes were open and staring up at her. He was dead and she just freaked out. She ran to the phone and dialed 911 and bawled out the situation and the address. The operator kept asking her for information and she kept yelling that 'they were all dead'.

Chuck gently took the phone from her hand and told the operator to 'roll a bus and coroner' and confirmed the address and gave his name only as 'Chuck', Lou's boyfriend.

Chuck unlocked the door for the cops who had yet to appear and then picked Lou up like a baby and sat down with her on his lap and rocked her until she calmed down enough to talk.

"Chuck, what the hell happened? What did you do to them?"

"They were going to hurt you, baby, take you out and rape you and murder you and probably laugh about it. I couldn't let anything happen to you. I love you." It was the first time either of them had said it. She knew he _meant _to mean it. She just didn't know if he 'loved' her or if he 'loved' her. In her mind there was a difference.

The cops were very understanding and Chuck knew that the key to getting out of there was complete disclosure. He was in deep shit. He hadn't just subdued the robbers. He'd killed two of them.

"Mr. Bartowski, walk me through it again. From when you drove up and parked. What happened next?"

"Like I said, I walked up …" He recited it from memory. He was cold and pulled his jacket tighter around him. "Lou, is there any hot coffee available? I've got a chill, honey."

The cop looked at him, assessing his 'detainee'. Pasty-white face, sweating but said he was cold… He made a quick decision and walked out to the paramedics and brought them back in with him.

"Mr. Bartowski, are you having chest pains or shortness of breath?" The lead EMT tech didn't like the look of his patient. His pulse was racing and he was sweating but claimed to be cold. He looked shocky and the EMT decided to err on the side of prudence.

"Mr. Bartowski, can you walk with me out to the ambulance? I'd like to take your BP and vitals. You don't look too good."

Lou launched into his recent medical history, including the coma, and the EMT looked alarmed. Sometimes post-coma patients went under again, without cause or explanation. He hoped this wasn't the case.

The cop knew this guy hadn't done anything wrong. It was clearly self-defense. Those three had long been suspects in a string of rapes and robberies but the cops could never get the witnesses to testify. Too damned scared. The surviving would-be rapist was singing hoarsely like a bird blaming everything on his friends.

The EMT reached down and grabbed Chuck's arm to help him up and felt something wrong. They pulled off his jacket and Chuck looked down. "Aw, shit. I got dinner warming in the oven, Lou. Call Ellie to turn it off or I'll burn down the damned apartment."

He had a .22 caliber hole in his bicep and he'd never felt a thing. He still didn't feel anything and hadn't felt 'severe pain' since his 'awakening'. The EMT said it was probably nerve damage from the near-electrocution. It might disappear in time. However, in the interim, he'd have to be careful of injuries he couldn't feel.

There were no further inquiries from the police. The guy had been shot and was defending himself and his girlfriend. The Grand Jury would return a bill of self-defense and that would be the end of it.

* * *

Casa Bartowski

Ellie rescued dinner and drove the couple back to her apartment from the ER. They'd all been very lucky this evening. She fed them and Lou talked about Chuck's 'novel' that they were working to get published. Ellie saw the way Lou and Chuck interacted and thought 'one door closes and another opens'. Lou said they'd email her the chapters for her opinion. Chuck thought the whole thing was hilarious because he was going nuts and might make money off it.

"Chuck, have you watched television lately? Seen how people crave and thrive on the crazy antics of celebrities? It's human nature, Chuck. Send me the 'stuff'. I can't wait to read it."

* * *

John Casey had finished up his mission in the Ukraine and was back at NSA HQ for reassignment. He had a few minutes and so he walked down to the HR section to check up on the Moron. He'd never admit it in a hundred years but he missed the comic relief he'd brought to hairy situations. The best sideshow was the UST between his partner and their agent/asset. Sometimes you had to cut your way through it with a knife.

"I'm sorry, Colonel Casey, but Agent Bartowski passed away without regaining consciousness. His family claimed the body – his sister, actually. Is there anything else?"

"No. Uh, thanks. What was the date of death again?"

He'd lasted longer than Casey thought he would. His sacrifice was never acknowledged by Beckman and that aggravated him to no end. People who threw themselves into the fire to save their team mates or fellow soldiers did not deserve to be forgotten. It just wasn't right.

'I wonder if Walker knows? I'll leave her a message for the next time she's in town.'

Casey put it in his mental 'To Do' queue and went to his next assignment briefing. He promised himself to stop by Burbank and see Ellie the very next time he was in California. She deserved to know that he wasn't a loser or wimp. In the end, he was an agent.

* * *

Las Palmas de Majorca

Carina Hansen and Sarah Walker met on Majorca as often as their mutual leave schedules allowed. There was one rule: no boyfriends. The week they carved out of their hectic lives belonged exclusively to the two friends.

Sarah was not in the mood for a vacation. No. She was in mourning. It had taken her a few hours and several drinks to loosen Walker up and get her to talk but she finally did.

She wished she hadn't. Chuck Bartowski was a mythical figure to Carina Hansen. The one who said 'No', blushing and stammering and stuttering and charting constant escape routes from her hotel room that she'd lured him to. He had said 'No'. And she knew it was because he'd fallen hard for his handler. He was The One Who Got Away.

Carina had no idea Walker had crashed and burned for him too. And now he was dead. She cringed at the metaphor she'd used to describe her friend's fall from grace. Spies did not fall for assets. It just wasn't done. No one _she _knew knew of anyone who knew of anyone who'd done it. It just wasn't done.

"Carina, I feel so lost without him. He was my constant and now all I have to look forward to in life is a string of Larkins until my looks go and gravity turns my tits into flaps. He told me he loved me, Carina. He gave me a gift and I spurned it. I told him he meant nothing to me, that he was just a another job and then he sacrificed himself for me and Casey. He finally made agent and I ignored him until it was too late."

"You were right. He was just another job. A good job, no, a great job, but still just a job." _I need to create a situation where I have to return to my assignment. I can't stand this whining wench for a week. What happened to the Black Widow? The Nightmare? The Scourge of Sao Paulo? If this is what happens when you find true love, my advice to spies is: __**RUN! HIDE!**_

She had no idea whatsoever that Chuck had 'completed' spy school the hard way and was considered by the NSA to be Agent Bartowski not that it would have made any difference to her. He was still TOWGA. She mentally wreathed his bust in black in her personal Hall of Heroes.

* * *

Lou's Apartment  
Burbank, CA

Chuck received a certified letter inviting him to a meeting with 'publisher', the publisher's attorney and an editor. He was 'invited' to bring his own attorney but it really wasn't necessary. The meeting was to be held in Palm Springs the following Monday if it was convenient. Hotel reservation information was included and would be at the publisher's expense, of course.

_'Yeah, right. I got my attorney but you don't need yours…sure.'_

"Lou, can you take a weekend and a few day off? We're going to Palm Springs and the 'publisher' is footing the bill. And we need to find an attorney in Palm Springs to represent us."

She grinned at 'us' and quickly found a place for herself in his lap. A few heavy kisses later, the meeting between the author and his editor adjourned to the bedroom for 'personal consultations'. 'Frisky' Lou was fun to be around.

As usual, Lou knew a guy who knew a guy who knew an attorney in Palm Springs. She was better connected than the damned internet. She called the attorney and explained their situation and she could hear the cash register go 'Cha-Ching' in the background. The attorney normally handled divorces but figured the negotiations between publisher and author would be a fairly close match. She was absolutely right.

Desert Palm Hotel  
Palm Springs, CA

They had a small suite. It was very nice. Lou loved the Jacuzzi and so they spent a great deal of time in it. Chuck held her, her back against his chest and his arms supporting her legs under her thighs and maneuvered her so that the pulsing jets found her mound and between his lips and fingers and the pulsing jets of water, her orgasms were loud and left her breathless. They rarely left the room ordering room service except once to hit the bar and celebrate their pending good fortune.

Roane Montgomery was drunk, as usual, and, as usual, had a pretty girl on his arm when he walked into the Tiki Lounge. Lou was wearing a very attention-getting top that dared her ample braless-breasts to stay within its confines and Roane was instantly attracted to her.

He ambled over, intent on adding her to his list of conquests when he saw who she was sitting with. He did an abrupt 180-degree turn and left the lounge. Agent Bartowski was moving in for the kill and he didn't want to step on any operational toes. Well, if _he_ were here, Walker would be close by. _She_ was already on his list.

He made a mental note, foggy though his mind was, to compliment Diane on how well he'd turned out. He always knew he had the makings of a fine agent. The fact that one of his hands was subtly entertaining her left breast and she was obviously enjoying it testified to the value of the brief training he'd received from the Master himself. Ah, to be young again.

* * *

Pair-'O-Dice Publishing  
Palm Springs, CA

Augustine Hunt (call me 'Augie') was a pit bull loose among kittens. The publisher, Duilio DiSante, and his attorney, Robert Sims (Augie said at best he was a sleaze) offered Chuck a contract for 3 novels in a continuing series and a $10,000 signing bonus. The publisher would retain movie rights and 70% of the proceeds from any book sales, including paperbacks and Kindle.

"Mr. Bartowski, Miss Palome, let's go. These idiots think you're some hayseed off the farm. I'll contact my network and find you a decent publisher who knows the value of your work. Chop chop, you two. I can have a new meeting set up before noon."

That got their attention. Chuck walked out of the meeting with a 3-book deal, movie and television rights and a much better signing bonus as well as a better percentage of sales. Augie told him she'd bill him and if the publisher's check bounced, she would sue DiSante just for 'shits and giggles' because he'd tried to rip the young man off. She didn't care who his old man was.

Chuck felt the familiar sharp pain and then a moment of disorientation. Both ladies noticed it and Lou immediately went all 'mother-hen' on him explaining to Augie his recent medical history including the robbery attempt.

"So his father is Pietro DiSante from Chicago? Cool. Never met a Mafia don before. Is this operation legit?"

"Oh, yes. Dewey's trying to drag the 'Family' into more acceptable lines of business but he's still his father's son and extortion is daddy's strong suit. That's why he pulled that crap on you. Profits are very important if he's going to take over from his father."

"Chuck's books will make them a lot of loot. They're great. Gritty and intense but very believable." Lou loved his writing and it was getting better and better.

"Send me a signed copy. I've never had a famous author as a client before."

* * *

The drive back to Burbank was done in stages with frequent stops to 'rest' and just enjoy each other's company. They were going to be well-situated financially and that was of great importance to Chuck. He'd been hand-to-mouth at the Buy More and it was not a situation he ever wanted to find himself in again. Whenever Lou paid a bill he felt guilty even though he paid his fair share. It was a cultural thing with him, ingrained when his sister had had to pay the bills any way she could.

As they lay in each others arms that night, tired but happy, Lou whispered that she wanted to get a new apartment once 'things calmed down' and she wanted a Jacuzzi. He fell asleep listening to her recite all the things the Jacuzzi was good for. He'd created a monster. He smiled his way to sleep.

**APR**


	3. SelfFulfilling Prophecies

LifeTimes3

* * *

A/N: Looks like I'm moving back home to PA. Old farts fell victim to her charm and wit and transcripts. Should have married a dumber woman and then we wouldn't have to move. Here's Part 3. APR

* * *

Casa Bartowski  
Burbank, CA

The book was edited with minimal changes and hit the shelves of the big book stores in November. He already had another completed and in the hands of the publisher for editing. Sales were slow until a review from the Los Angeles Times hit the streets. Papers across the country carried the syndicated columnist's reviews in the next few days and sales skyrocketed.

"_Download_ is an impressive first novel by a young, raw talent. Barton Charles is reminiscent of an early Cussler or Clancy. Watch out for this guy. He hits all the right buttons and it's a damned good read."

Ellie finished reading the review aloud and then presented Chuck with a framed copy of the Times review. She was just about to bust with pride. Lou had read the author's notes on the front page and was a little confused. She asked him about it and he said 'it just came to me in the night and I knew I had to write it'.

**'_The good things I've done but don't remember, the people I've loved but don't remember, I regret not knowing; the hurts and ills, I'm better off having forgotten. These scribblings might be memories or they might be madness. The jury is still out.'_**

Chuck had arranged that all 'fan mail', checks, requests for interviews, any other book-related activities were to be funneled through his attorney. All he was interested in was the check. Augie would deduct her retainer and fees from his checks and reissue a check payable to C. Bartowski. He didn't know why he'd refused to put a photograph on the jacket of the novel but something told him that anonymity was the road to go. Augie handled everything and all Chuck had to do was deposit the checks.

He gave a few telephone interviews but nothing in person. This reluctance to be seen in person fueled some of his fans (who also believed that Area 51 held a flying saucer and that JFK was assassinated by LBJ in a silent coup) to conjecture on various web sites that he was actually a CIA agent and was writing about actual events and people.

He told the interviewer from NPR that it was all a bunch of crap and that it was his imagination that provided the material for his novels. Yes, novels. By now his second book was in pre-release and the reviews were just as good if not better.

NPR: Why won't you allow your photograph to be used on your book jackets and why is your biography so skimpy, Mr. Charles?

BC: I value my privacy over everything else.

NPR: And your biography? No personal details at all. Just that you're a writer living in Southern California.

BC: You have no 'need to know'.

NPR: A shameless plug for your new novel?

BC: [Hangs up the phone]

San Josei Int'l Air Port  
San Jose, PR

Carina Hansen had a weakness (other than men). She loved reading spy and adventure novels. Sometimes she even used lines from her favorite books in her job. She'd picked up _Download_ in the airport in Miami and had it almost read before she arrived in Puerto Rico. It was a real page-turner and she was so absorbed that she found herself halfway through the scene on page 137 where the main character, Graham Beck, is lured into the hotel room of the story's _femme fatale_, Zoe Phelps. Beck grins nervously at her and plots a quick escape without giving her what she thinks she needs, calling her the Arabic word for succubus: Q'arinah.

_Coincidence? It has to be. He's dead. Killed saving his team._

"Casey, secure."

"Hansen, secure. Go private, John. No one around. Call me back."

He was intrigued. She sounded edgy and ultra-professional. He walked down two flights of stairs to a mechanical room in the hotel he was staying at and called her back.

"Hansen, you in trouble?"

"No, John. I'm in shock. Tell me again how Chuck died."

"Carina, that's 'need to know' stuff. He died in a long-term care facility without regaining consciousness. That's all I can tell you. Walker was reassigned and I stayed until Beckman gave up and pulled me back for an op in Eastern Europe."

"John, you know he's The One Who Got Away, don't you? I told you about that, right?"

"Yeah. So what?" He was getting mad now. She dragged him off on a personal stroll down memory lane.

"I bought a novel in the Miami airport. The kind I like. It's great, John. Really stays true to our jobs."

"So you called to recommend it?" The DEA must be crazy to keep her around.

"In a way. Remember when I lured him out to Westwood on that fake trouble call? I was going to have him just to piss Sarah off. Well, we exchanged words. The exact same words that are in that damned scene in the novel."

"Coincidence, nothing more. He's dead, Carina. It's a shame but it's also a fact."

"He called the woman in the scene a succubus using the Arabic term: Q'arinah."

"What's the book's title and author? Publisher? Page numbers? OK. I'll get back with you. Keep this quiet. Don't tell anyone else. Especially not Walker, understand?"

"I'll want to be in the loop on this one, Casey. I liked that guy. If someone's using his history to make money, I want in on taking him out."

"Don't be ridiculous. Interrogate? Yes. Liquidate? Not very damned likely, not if he turns his source material over to us."

"Read the damned book, Casey. Remember, I want in."

He didn't get around to buying the book for a few days. He was wrapping up other things. He found a paperback copy and took it home with him. Three hours later he was on the phone with General Beckman.

NSA HQ  
FT Meade, MD

"Ma'am, someone at NSA or CIA has used our mission reports to write a damned novel."

She listened carefully to his explanation, snickered at the Q'arinah scene and then told Casey to investigate the author and report back to her before taking any action. "Who ever he is, he knows Carina Hansen…very well." She snickered again and then turned back to her inbox with a sigh. She called her Aide de Camp and asked him to find her a copy of _Download_ by Barton Charles.

Five minutes later the lieutenant handed her his copy of the book. "I've finished it, General. It's a damned good read. Someone knows how the game is played. The Geek and the Blonde don't work well, but the rest is pure magic."

She frowned and he thought he'd gone too far. She'd asked for the book, not a critical review.

"What's your opinion of the writer? Is he any good? Is he just wrapping words around possible mission reports? Is any of it familiar to you at all?"

"He's good but the 'ops' in the novel are written like a novice would describe them, not a trained agent but the narrative improved with each scenario in the novel. I'm waiting for his next book to come out in paperback. It's called _Nothing Under the Cover_. It's already out in hard back and it's got people buzzing. The author's note in the first novel got some people talking, wondering and postulating."

"The new novel is also a page turner with the same kind of opening author's note. It's a quote from Charles Baudelaire: '_How little remains of the man I once was, save the memory of him. But remembering is only a new form of suffering.'_ Pretty deep stuff for a spy novelist."

"Deep indeed. Get me a copy of the hardbound edition. No, get several. I'll want you and others to read it and give me your thoughts. Then I have some highly sensitive reports for you to read. I'll want a comparative report before week's end. Dismissed."

It was almost the end of the duty day and she'd put in a full 10 hours and so felt entitled to a short 'break in place'. She opened the novel to page one and read the author's note in place of a dedication. Two hours later she was almost done with it. The mission descriptors remained true to history but the perspective never changed from that of the protagonist's narrative.

There were never any conversations between the handlers without Beck present and never any 'introspective monologs' except on the part of Graham Beck. She smiled at the name.

Why not wave a red flag or send up a star shell or take out an ad in the LA Times. 'I'm here. I'm alive'.

'Serena Cole, Sarah Walker. John Casey, Jackson Macy. Graham Beck… Barton Charles… Charles Bartowski….' The question was 'why'?

She flipped back to the author's notes. Noting the time, she looked up a phone number and dialed it.

"Hello."

"Yes, can I speak to Chuck Bartowski, please?" Open conflict with strength.

"I'm sorry. Chuck is…gone. I'm sorry. I'm his sister. Can I help you with something?" She sounded sad, almost heartbroken.

"No, no thank you. I'm sorry to have troubled you." So, the sister believes he's dead…'gone'. Interesting. From what she'd read and observed, he was devoted to his sister. Why would he let her think he was dead?

Ellie hung up the phone. She missed her little brother. She missed being able to walk into his room and talk to him. She missed having him around. Well, they still had dinner at each other's apartments once a week.

Chuck & Lou's Apartment  
North Hollywood, CA

Lou cried while she was preparing dinner. She had the night off and Ellie was coming over.

Chuck's chapters, his 'dreams', were fast approaching the point where they'd broken off their relationship and she was afraid of what it would mean to them as a couple when he reached and passed that point in time. She'd long since abandoned any notion that his 'dreams' were just figments of his wonderful mind. She knew they were memories of real events that he'd been a part of.

The feelings he described for Serena Cole when he went all angsty as Graham Beck were _real_. Her boyfriend, her future, had been a spy. And he loved someone else. He just didn't know it. He'd lost all those memories in his conscious mind. They were there, though, in his subconscious and they manifested themselves as dreams.

How long would it be before he realized it. How long would it be before he intellectually acknowledged what his subconscious was telling him: _Graham Beck is you. You are Graham Beck. Graham Beck loves Serena Cole. Chuck Bartowski loves…someone like Serena Cole. Someone like…Sarah Walker._ Lou made a connection that Chuck would have applauded. It all made sense to her now, horrible, future-fucking sense.

Chuck came back from the gym he'd joined to 'get into shape'. They could afford it. He'd driven home in her surprise, a Land Rover like the one she'd been commenting about every time she saw the commercial. She'd been his rock and he wanted her to know just how much he appreciated her being in his life.

"Hey, babe, c'mere. I brought a little something home for you."

She didn't turn around. She just kept cutting the vegetables for their dinner into smaller and smaller pieces. It had to be done now, before she was in too deep and it would hurt too badly if she waited any longer. It would destroy her if she didn't free him now.

"Hey, what's wrong?" He walked up and put his arms around her, resting his chin on the top of her head. She smelled like freshly cut grass and summer.

Still not turning around, she began her speech.

"Chuck, this thing we have, it's not working for me. I'm sorry. Really I am. I thought maybe this time would be different but it isn't. You – you need to find your own place or move back in with Ellie. We'll split up our stuff and…and we can still be friends. I just don't want to invest any more time in a relationship that isn't going where I want it to go. This isn't the relationship I want. I need someone who's…mine."

He was stunned. He hadn't seen this coming. He thought they were on the same page.

"I thought we were happy. I am. I thought you were too. What haven't I done that I should have? What can I do to make you change your mind?"

"You're happy. I'm not. I – I don't want to change my mind. I don't love you, Chuck. I can't be who you want me to be. I can't be… I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. We can still be friends."

Chuck looked down at the key chain and thought about the small blue jewelers box in the glove compartment. He'd take back the ring but he'd keep the damned Land Rover.

"I'll pick up my stuff tomorrow while you're at work. I'll get Devon to help me. I'll talk to Augie about some sort of financial arrangement. You deserve something for your time and effort, Lou. I couldn't have written the crap without you. I'm sorry too. I thought – never mind what I thought. Obviously I was wrong. I'll spend the night at Ellie's."

"Chuck, I don't want your damned money! I want – I want – I just want you to go. Please."

"Lou, if I leave, I'm not coming back. If you turn your back on us, it's over. Period."

She'd gotten cooler to him as the new book had progressed. As Beck grew closer with Serena Cole, Lou had begun to withdraw from Chuck Bartowski. He should have seen it.

"Lou, are you jealous of Serena Cole?" He was deadly serious and she heard it in a tone she'd never heard him use with her before except when he'd been describing his actions to the cops at her Deli when he'd kil-.

"No, Chuck. I'm not jealous of Serena Cole. I'm jealous of Sarah Walker." There. She'd said it. The name of the Unnamable, _She Who Must Not Be Named_, the specter that haunted her as his novel progressed. As more and more scenes (OK, memories, they were his damned memories) involved Beck and Cole, she felt the fear grow in her belly like a tumor.

The hand that had been resting lightly on her shoulder throughout the entire fight now flew from her. She heard a gasp and without thinking, whirled around. He looked gray and drawn, the color gone from his face. His eyes were unfocused and he appeared to be in a trance. Then clarity washed over them.

"You're all alike, Lou. You women let me get close and let me start to feel something again and then you all do something like this. Fine. I'm gone. I won't be back."

He was almost out of control. He was consumed with grief-driven anger and the feeling of betrayal. He didn't know any Sarah Walker. He obviously didn't know Lou either. She was accusing him of having feelings for a fictional character, a figment of his overactive imagination.

Chuck drove _his_ new Land Rover up to Burbank and to the old apartment. He didn't knock. He still paid his part of the rent and now he was glad he did.

It only took Ellie Bartowski a second to recognize the look on his face. Oh, shit.

She turned and looked at the smiling man sitting at their kitchen table finishing a beer. He stood and walked over to Chuck, holding out his hand in greeting.

"Hey, Chuck. Good to see you up and about. I was just in town and stopped by to see Ellie and she gave me the good news about your recovery."

Chuck stared at the man he'd come to know as Jackson Macy, a character in his novels. He felt the familiar bolt of pain and the wave of dizziness. He ignored his hand and instead turned to his sister. He knew who he was. He knew all about him. He just didn't know how he knew these things.

"Eleanor Fay, who the hell is Sarah Walker?"

APR  
Ugly Erie, PA


	4. Meeting People Again For the First Time

LifeTimes4

* * *

"_Eleanor Fay, who the hell is Sarah Walker?"_

Casey didn't feel at all slighted. He knew Bartowski and how he focused on one thing while part of his mind worried at another like a Jack Russell Terrier.

Ellie took one look at her brother's face and sighed. The NSA agent had explained so much and so much more made sense now. She'd screwed up, big time.

"Chuck, before I answer you, maybe you better let me introduce…"

"Jackson Macy but in reality, Major John Casey, NSA. Yeah, it's all coming back now but it's disorganized. Am I really Charles Bartowski or is that a crock of shit just like every thing else in my life? And Ellie, I need to borrow Devin for a while tomorrow morning. I need to move my stuff out of Lou's. We're done."

"Oh, Chuck, I'm so sorry…"

"Are you, Ellie? Really? I think not. I'll have another apartment by the end of business tomorrow. Now, will someone answer my Goddamned question? Who is Sarah Walker? And why is she so Goddamned important to me? Well?"

"Calm down, Bartowski. Come sit down and I'll explain the life and times of Charles Bartowski, Moron and fledgling NSA Agent. Believe it or not, Chuck, I'm damned glad to see you alive and kicking. And later, much later, I want to talk to you about my character…"

"Ellie, go take a walk. A long walk. Call Devon to pick you up. Call before you come back and if you don't hear from me in 2 hours, go to the police." Ellie heard something in his tone of voice and grabbed a sweater and her cell phone and left, grabbing her purse on the way out.

* * *

Apartment of Sarah Walker  
Washington, DC

Sarah Walker was in bed but unable to sleep. Her apartment in DC was suddenly uncomfortable. She wanted to be anywhere but where she was. She had no idea why she'd been 'summoned for consultations'. She got up and rummaged around through her travel bag and found the novel Carina had given her when they'd run into each other last week in Madrid. Maybe she could bore herself to sleep.

She was hooked the minute she read the author's note in the front of the book. Carina had scribbled something in her indecipherable chicken-scratch about 'comas' and 'memory recovery' in the margin. Those were the only words she could make out.

'_The good things I've done but don't remember, the people I've loved but don't remember, I regret not knowing; the hurts and ills, I'm better off having forgotten. These scribblings might be memories or they might be madness. The jury is still out.'_

By the time she was halfway through, she wondered if she'd read it before. The operations the team accomplished in the story seemed familiar. Almost like…

But it was when Graham Beck asked Serena Cole if there 'was anything under the cover' that she knew.

"Casey, secure but in public, very public."

"Walker, secure. Where are you, John? Go someplace you can talk and call me back. It's important."

"No, I don't think I can do that for a while. I'm in the middle of something that I have to finish. It's more important than anything you have to say to me right now. It's code word. It must be black as pitch back there in DC at this time of night. I'll call ya."

Sarah stared at the phone, barely stopping herself from throwing it at the wall. What's more important than someone using their missions to write stupid novels? Wait! Code word. Black as pitch in DC. Code Black. The asset was in danger of being compromised! But Chuck had been an agent. What the hell did Casey mean? Was he in trouble?

She called NSA HQ and identified herself and asked for the current location of John Casey. The answer was brief and to the point. "One moment, Agent Walker. I have to transfer this call and verify security before putting you through."

She waited 3 minutes, then 3 more and finally "This is General Beckman, not secure, very public. Sarah, go home. Understand me? Go home. I'll have Casey meet you at the airport. Text him your flight information."

Dial tone. The general must be nuts. She didn't _have _a home. Well, OK, San Diego was her 'home of record' but it wasn't where she would call home. Home had been in…

Casey's phone buzzed and he smiled. He sent back a confirming text message: _No one can call you a dumb blonde._

She sent another text: _Chuck?_ She wondered if it had anything to do with him.

He sent a brief response: _Chuck!_

She threw clothes in her suitcase and drove to the airport determined to get on the next flight to LA if she had to go postal to free up a seat. She lucked out and got a 1st Class spot. She didn't care if she went as baggage. She would have hurt someone to catch the flight.

She dug through her carry-on and found the novel. _No one but Chuck could know what was said. Casey couldn't bug the entire planet._

She tried to read but couldn't focus. A flight attendant brought her a small package of tissues and smiled. "It's a 4-hour flight if you want to talk about it. Are you running 'from' or 'to' someone?"

"'To', I think. And I don't need to talk about it but thank you. I'm just a little overwhelmed by it all. I'll be fine but thank you for your concern."

She dried her eyes and opened the novel, determined to finish it, no matter what the cost might be. She had to know. She had to find all those passages that were only between them and try to remember where they were. She wouldn't put it past Casey to have bugged her hotel room, the corridor, the elevator…he knew no limits.

* * *

Casa Bartowski  
Burbank, CA

"So, that's it, Chuck. She hung on until she was ordered to leave. She almost resigned but, well, she's a professional. It killed her to leave but she had no other options. As for me? I stayed until reassigned. You were in a deteriorating vegetative state according to your doctors. Beckman paid you out then cut you loose. No more surveillance, no security, nothing."

"So why do you all think I'm dead? I don't understand that part at all. I couldn't remember you people but surely someone thought to check on good ol' Chuck the Cabbage?"

"Hey, I checked. That's how you got your death benefit check. Well, Ellie did. The hospice records showed you'd bought the farm. There was no reason to doubt it. Sarah and Ellie were the only people who believed you'd wake up. OK, maybe I hoped you would but don't go all touchy-feely on me. I checked with HR and you were dead. I got word to Walker and then Carina called me after reading your damned book and the rest is history."

"So what now, major?"

"Actually it's 'colonel' now, Chuck. That's something else you forgot."

"OK, so the intersect's a little dated and my memory is nonexistent if it happened after 2007. Again, what happens to me now?"

"That's up to you and the General. You obviously have absorbed quite a lot of the skills in the intersect. You killed those two robbers and disabled a third. You maintained 'security' by BS'ing the origin of Graham Beck's skills. You refused to provide any information at all that could be used to trace your true identity. I don't think there'll be any prosecution for revealing secret information under these circumstances."

His eyes narrowed and his lips curled up just a bit at the corners. "_Colonel_ Casey, you'd better kill me right here and right now because I have no intention whatsoever of going down into Beckman's personal memory hole."

He watched as Casey mentally prepared himself to attack and subdue or kill him. He pushed back his chair and laughed at Casey. "You're telegraphing your intentions, Colonel. You should just have popped me the minute Ellie left while I was still confused and uncertain. Now you're going to have both a physical and emotional problem."

"How do you figure that, moron?" He hadn't given any indications of what he was thinking, had he? He was just trying to keep him here until they left for the airport.

"Your jaw tightened, you looked down and to your left, and your right hand trembled slightly as you subdued your instinctive response to go for your weapon. Gotcha, Casey."

"I meant how do you figure I'll have a physical and emotional problem?"

"Getting rid of the body and overcoming your personal distaste for having to kill me."

"My intention was and still is to keep your ass here until we head out to the airport. That's all I'm supposed to do."

"Fine. Let's pretend I really believe that for just a minute. What does Beckman want?"

"She wants you back, as an agent, with a partner you can trust."

"You?"

"No. I have a new partner. You'd be getting someone with experience and judgment who can mentor you as your skills develop and you run ops together."

"And just who might that be, Casey, if not you?"

"Don't know. I did my job. I found out who was writing those novels, determined if there was a credible threat and now I've sent a signal to initiate the meet with your new partner."

"I have a life now, Casey. I don't need the NSA/CIA Combine ruining it. Well, it's pretty much shot in the ass now but I'll bounce back. Besides, I'm contractually committed to another book. It's almost done."

"Yeah, about my character, Macy. I mean, really, was I that bad?"

"Yep. All I changed were names and places. The actual events played out as I suppose we lived them. Of course, it's my memories of things, conversations and events. I'll bet yours are a lot different."

"Speaking of memories, do you remember anything at all about the day this nightmare all started?"

"No. I haven't gotten that far yet, I suppose. I think my head is rebuilding my memories in dreams sequentially so I think I have about 4 months to go before I dream that night, if I do at all. Why?"

"You told Sarah Walker you loved her and then you grabbed the severed ends of that power cable and died so your team mates could escape. Gutsy move. I don't know if I could have done it."

He looked at Chuck and noticed a slight tearing of the eyes and that he was making fists of both hands held six inches apart and trembling slightly. When he spoke, he closed his eyes and sounded a million miles or years apart. He was reliving it, out of sequence and unprotected by a dreamscape.

"I probably couldn't see any alternatives. Stupid, huh? Grabbing a zillion volts hoping to complete a circuit long enough so that two people I love like family might have another chance? There was nothing else I could have done. You guys were running out of time. You sounded scared, Casey and…"

"And what, Agent Bartowski? And what?" _Keep him detached from the experience so it's less traumatic. _

"And I didn't want to be left alone again." There was a long silence.

"I need another beer, Chuck, how about you?"

"Yeah." He called Ellie and told her things were fine but to figure on getting a motel for the night. He called ahead and got them a mini-suite at the Marriott and billed it to his AMEX. He had more money than he knew what to do with and this was just a little bit of a payback for Ellie. He'd pay off her student loans with royalties and vendor sales on the next book.

"So, tell me what you've been doing the past 14 months. You're looking a hell of a lot better than the last time I saw you. You've gained weight and…and what?"

"Nothing. I joined a gym, got a personal trainer, ran a lot while I mentally wrote chapters and edited the crap in my mind. Lou and I spent…"

"Go on. You and Lou…"

"Lou broke it off with me. She said it wasn't working out and that she couldn't be who I wanted her to be. Dumb ass me asked her if she was 'jealous of Serena Cole'."

"And what'd she say?"

"No, she was jealous of Sarah Walker. That's the first time I'd ever heard the name, I mean, since I woke up I guess. I got mad. Really mad. She was accusing me of having feelings for a fictional character. And then she put a name to her. I could never see your faces, Casey, just blurs and hair color, clothing, that kind of stuff. But never the faces. It was frustrating as hell."

"Do you love her, Chuck? Be honest. Just between us guys." The sandwich girl. They'd dated before and it seemed real until it wasn't anymore.

"I don't know. And that's a hell of an admission considering there's an engagement ring in the glove box of the damned brand new Land Rover I bought her to celebrate our success. I just don't know anymore, Casey. She obviously knew about Sarah from the cover and Ellie did, too. Lou and Ellie spent a lot of time together without me around. Neither said a damned thing to me. Why do women lie? I don't think I'll ever be able to trust a woman again."

"Your new partner's a woman. You damned sure better trust her, Bartowski."

"I don't want a female partner. I'll work solo or with a guy. Couples just don't work, at least my couples don't work, ever."

"You don't have a choice, Chuck. Orders."

"Oh, Casey, you're so damned innocent sometimes. I always have a choice, just like I made a choice in that equipment room 14 months ago. And yeah, I'm willing to pay the price."

"At least wait until you meet her, moron. You might actually be able to get along with this one." He looked at the clock.

"We've gotta go. I got a bag here. You drive us to the airport. She'll need a ride to wherever you two decide she'll spend the night. I have a flight to catch back to Paris."

* * *

LAX

The drive to LAX didn't take nearly as long as he figured. Casey didn't say much to him during the drive, morphing into the old Casey he'd come to know so well.

Casey looked at his cell phone and reviewed a text message. "Drop me off here, at Lufthansa and then park your land yacht in short-term. She's coming in on Delta 1179 at Concourse B, Gate 28. Don't run her off. Give her a chance."

"Watch your ass, Casey. Don't let them get close to you. Remember Hansen and her handcuffs."

Casey shot him the bird and disappeared from view and from his life.

He parked in short-term, suddenly feeling naked without the weight of a weapon on his side. He felt himself changing minute by minute. He wasn't sure if he liked the new model.

He walked down to the arrivals and waited for the flight to be announced. He'd meet her at the baggage carousel. He was nervous and he had no reason to be. He was in control for a change and would make decisions based on his best interests not those of the 'greater good'.

* * *

Sarah felt like she was a little girl again, waiting for the first day of school. Her phone vibrated as she walked down the jet way to the terminal and she saw a text message from Casey: _Remember. He doesn't. He's all yours. Don't push him. JC_

APR  
Bayou Batiste, LA


	5. End of the Beginning

LifeTimes5

**A/N: The end. Yes, there is more but unless there's a popular outcry (doubtful) for the remaining chapters, this is it. it's a nice place to stop. The missing chapters are just about recapturing his memories. My editor and I have a house to sell, one to buy and a move to plan and I have to finish the others.**

**APR**

* * *

Baggage Claim  
LAX

He was nervous. He really had no choice. He was a shield-carrying agent for the NSA, he'd just forgotten where he'd left it. And his weapon. And his sense of who he was and what he could do.

Casey had just walked away as if nothing they'd shared in the past meant a damned thing anymore. And Walker? She was probably doing the beast with two backs with Larkin or some other 'real' spy like Cole Barker.

He stopped, stunned. Cole Barker was near the end of it, not even close to where they'd stopped in terms of a time line. Was his memory coming back or had it been the association of Larkin, Walker and Barker that triggered a mini-core dump? He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans and wished he'd trimmed the beard back. He'd come out of 'cold storage' with it and kept it. Now he wondered if he should have just whacked it off. Oh, well, too late.

She was nervous. In her own mind she had no choice. She loved him and needed to be with him. So what if he was damaged. She was, too. They'd fix each other. Together, there was nothing they couldn't accomplish. She wished she'd gotten her hair done. And a manicure. And she wished she'd worn sexier underwear. '_Whoa! Getting ahead of your self, lady. Casey says he doesn't remember you at all and you plan on screwing his ears off?'_

'_Maybe I should have brought a sign. Yeah, a sign. NSA Agent Meeting Partner? Oh, yeah. That's the ticket.'_ Chuck laughed at the image of him waving a sign around and becoming an instant non-electric popup target for Fulcrum. He chuckled out loud and then looked around sheepishly. It was 3am. Everyone was a little loopy.

She saw him before he saw her. He looked older. It was the beard. She had a sudden thought. _I wonder if it's soft like his hair? How will it feel against my skin? _He was wearing jeans, a polo and a leather jacket. He looked good. His hair was too short for her liking but she could live with it if that was the way he wore it now. She wanted to see his hands but they were stuffed into the pockets of his leather jacket, probably in fists.

He felt like he was being watched. He should have worn sunglasses even though it was still dark. It was 'light' in the airport and it was good tradecraft, too. Too late. He pulled out his arm and looked at his watch, casually scanning the crowd. Would he even know her if he saw her? Damn Casey for not providing some intel on her looks.

Just then the baggage carousel kicked in and it startled him from his perch against a cement support column. He reached underneath his leather jacket but stopped, blushing. '_You don't get a weapon until you re-qualify, moron!'_

'_Oh, thank God. He's nervous, too. How can I approach him so he knows it's me?' _Suddenly she knew what to do and the dread and fear fell away like a discarded cloak. She walked up beside him and looked up at him and smiled.

"I love you too, Charles Irving Bartowski. And I'm not afraid to say it now. Sara Walker loves Chuck Bartowski."

He flinched and seemed disoriented. She reached out a hand to steady him and was surprised when he caught her hand and then pressed it to his lips.

"I don't love you yet, Sarah Walker. Not yet. I haven't reached that point yet in my memory recovery. I do like you a hell of a lot right now though, so it's progress. But I won't lie to you. I don't remember loving you. I don't remember what you look like even though I dream of you each and every night. I just can't see your face yet. Not in my dreams."

"Open your eyes, sweetheart, I'm right here. My hair is a mess and I probably look like I slept in my clothes but…"

He stopped her with a gentle kiss. Soft and slow and easy.

He opened his eyes and whispered, "Hello, Sarah Walker. I've been dreaming about you." She stood still, savoring the moment. She had proof, tangible proof, that he was alive. Now she could begin to live again.

"Casey told me you were dead. I wanted to die and follow you. I was so sad and lonely. Now everything's almost back to normal. We'll work on your old memories and make some new ones, too."

"I thought you'd be back with Bryce, picking up where you left off, back to being the kick-ass-Ninja-Spy-Girl. I'm glad you're not."

"Oh, honey, Bryce is dead. It happened when you uploaded 2.0 and kicked some serious Fulcrum ass. It's OK, Chuck. It'll come back to you. Not everything that you can't remember was bad."

"Sarah, I need to tell you some things, things that have happened in the last year. I didn't know that I ever knew you. Ellie did a cleaner on your presence in my life. She thought she was being kind since you just left and never contacted her again. I woke up three weeks after Casey left and I had no idea anyone as wonderful as you had been in my life. I couldn't remember anything after the original download Bryce sent me. I lost three years, Sarah, three years!"

"Hey, let's make a pact. I'll forgive you in advance if you forgive me in advance. That way neither of us has to feel bad about anything we did in the past year, OK?"

"Yeah, but I want you to know, Sarah. I need you to know and I'm going to tell you but not right now and not tonight – er – this morning. I'm tired, you're exhausted, and I have to find a new apartment today after I get my stuff out of Lou's. Want to help me find a place to live?"

"Lou's? You were living with Lou?" _'Calm down. He didn't remember you. He didn't even know about you. He dated her before and it's natural that he'd seek out the familiar._'

"Well, so much for our pact. It didn't even last 10 seconds, did it? Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. I'll drop you at the residence hotel and I'll call you sometime tomorrow."

"You don't have my number, Chuck. How do you know about the residence hotel?"

"I dreamed about it. Or maybe I'm still in a coma and this is what I'm dreaming about and my dreams are just something extra. Hell, I don't know. What's your cell number?"

"Where will you be staying? Do you still have the same cell number?"

"Motel. I'm not ready to deal with Ellie yet. I'm still pissed. Tomorrow will be soon enough. I need to get my shit out of Lou's before she burns it all in the parking lot. I have to find a place of my own. Short-term. Maybe in North Hollywood. I don't know. All this was just sprung on me and it's a lot to deal with."

"You – you could stay with me, Chuck. Maybe being around each other will speed up your recovery. Just so you know, though, we – that is, you and I – Sarah and Chuck, we never um we never…"

"Slept together? Made love? Screwed? Yeah, I didn't think things had progressed that far with us. At least I hoped not. I would like to think something like that would stick in my memory even after I died."

She shuddered and gave in to impulse and slipped her hands into his open jacket and around his waist and pulled herself as close to him as possible resting her head on his shoulder. "No, I think something like what we'll have would make an impression we're not likely to forget but even if we had and you couldn't remember, it wouldn't matter, not to me, Chuck. You're alive and that's enough for now."

"Let's find your bags and get moving. Traffic can be a real bitch even this early in the morning. I'm sorry, I forgot to ask. Are you hungry? We can stop on the way home. No big deal. I could use a few gallons of coffee."

"I'm good. I'm still on DC time so I'll be starved by lunch. Did you borrow Ellie's car?"

"Nope. I'm a big boy now. I bought…yeah, I bought a Land Rover. It's almost brand new."

"Wow, a tank! Bet it's an automatic." She remembered his hatred of standard shifts. _"It only takes a few LA traffic jams to make you hate standard shifts, Sarah. You'll see. That little Porsche of yours will go through clutches like it's got Montezuma's Revenge!"_

"Surprise. Six-speed. Top of the line. Nothing's too good for my…"

"You bought it for her, didn't you? It's OK. Really. Now, if you'd bought her a Porsche, then I'd say you had identity issues."

'_I wanted to buy her a Porsche but she said it was impractical.'_

"Doesn't matter now. It's mine."

"Well, honey, her loss is definitely my gain. Damn, Chuck, you look good. I think I might let you keep the beard." He heard the laughter in her voice and smiled despite his sense of foreboding. _'Hasn't been an hour and already she's remaking me in 'his' image. Well, I'm not him, not any more.'_

"Then I won't ask you to color your hair a deeper brown." He knew she hated brunettes, just didn't know why or how he even knew that.

"Point goes to Bartowski. Sorry, Chuck. I made assumptions and it's way too soon for that. Besides, I've been thinking about going brunette. I have for a very long time." _'Since I saw the picture of Jill, and then saw how you were with that bitch Sasha and then Lou and that slut who came after her and then Jill again. But you always came back to me. Even after I left you for Shaw, you remained true to me.'_

"Don't. My kick-ass Ninja Spy Girl's a blonde. I haven't dreamed her into memory yet, but she's there – and she's blonde."

"Another point to Bartowski. When did you get so good at this?"

"This? I don't understand."

"We used to go back and forth, sometimes for hours on missions and cover dates, and I usually won the zinger contests. But you've got your groove on, baby. It's different. You're different."

"Um, is that good or bad 'different'?"

"Not sure yet. Ask me again in a couple of years."

* * *

The drive to the CIA hotel was taking just as long as Chuck had feared. Sarah didn't say much. She looked around taking it all in. Finally the silence got too much for Chuck.

"You're thinking way too hard, Agent Walker. I can hear you all the way over here."

"Just re-familiarizing myself with the operating area. We went on our first 'real' date over there. You don't remember but I do. You were nervous and brought me a yellow rose. You looked so cute. Confession time: I was nervous as hell too. I'd never, ever, been on a date with someone I really liked. High school was a disaster and we traveled around too much for me to get a guy for any period of time. So, yeah, I was nervous."

"And you're nervous now. Why?"

"Suppose I've changed too much? Become too needy? You loved 'Sarah Walker'. What if I'm not her anymore, Chuck? It could happen. It's been more than a year."

He turned it over in his mind and reached a decision.

"Open the glove box. There's a small blue box in it. Give it to me, please?"

He pulled off the street into a parking lot and turned off the Rover.

"Chuck, what…"

"An engagement ring. I bought it a week ago. I bought it for the wrong girl but I'm giving it to the right woman. Hold out your hand, Sarah Walker. You're wearing my mother's bracelet. There's no way I would have given it to anyone except the woman I wanted to marry."

He removed the ring from the box and then took her left hand in his. It was trembling.

"Sarah Walker, not today but some day, I'm going to ask you to marry me. Wear this as my promise." He slipped the ring on her finger.

The ring fit perfectly. The kiss that followed was perfect, too.

* * *

APR


	6. Happy Rebirthday Sarah

LifeTimes Addemdum1

* * *

_He slipped the ring on her finger_. _The ring fit perfectly. The kiss that followed was perfect, too._

She sat there, thoroughly engaged (no pun intended) in trying to fit herself into his mouth. It wasn't what she'd expected from a first-kiss-with-Chuck. It was incrementally, no geometrically, superior to anything she could have imagined. Everything he felt for her was in that kiss. She had no idea that lips could be used so damned effectively.

When he broke off the kiss and just held her face in his gentle hands she whimpered. She wanted another, hell, a dozen more, right then and there. When his lips left hers she couldn't help herself. She'd whimpered and almost cried out 'No! Don't stop!' but figured out quickly that that reaction was not what he was looking for. She felt – complete for the first time since she could remember.

Her mind was suddenly on schedules. Airline schedules. They could…

"Chuck, get this beast moving back to the airport!"

Now it was his turn to feel uncertain. He had wanted to make her comfortable and let her know just what his intentions were once he'd gotten his missing memories back.

He didn't want her leaving, driven away by her fears of change but he'd pushed her too hard, made assumptions and now she wanted to return to wherever she'd been and whomever she'd been with before she'd been sent to him.

He had no doubt she was here because she'd been ordered here. All his fears and insecurities came rushing back.

Those thoughts took less than a second to coalesce and impact his mood. She noticed immediately when his lips drew into a hard almost bloodless line and his eyes seemed to lose all luster.

"Chuck, I want us to go to Vegas and get married, now, right now, today, without delay. I've waited all my life for you and…and…and I've been mourning you for the past year. I want this, Bartowski, even if you don't yet, you will. I'll make you love me if I have to tie you down to do it. I will not lose you this time, understand me, mister?"

"Um, well, no. That's not how I want us to get married. I want a wedding with friends and family, not some Elivis impersonator and his trailer-trash big-haired bimbo assistant as a witness. Nope, not going to happen so get over it. I'll drop you off at your hotel. I'm sure the…the…general?" He looked at her for confirmation and she nodded. "I'm sure the general has plans that don't include us getting married any time soon."

"You don't want to get married now? Why not? Those reasons aren't good enough for me, Chuck."

He started to respond but she cut him off at the knees with her next few sentences.

"I found you dead in that power room. I was the one who tried to breathe life back into you while Casey did heart massage. I was the one who cried for weeks while you were in the coma and I was the one who cried the entire way across the US to DC when the Bitch reassigned me. You don't get to make decisions on this, honey. You've been screwing around for the past year while I've been dying a little bit every damned day. Well, this is _**MY**_ _**FUCKING**__**REBIRTHDAY**_, Chuck, and I say we go to Vegas and get married."

"I wasn't screwing around, Agent Walker, I was living my life, alone and forgotten. I didn't remember a damned thing about anything after I got the intersect in 2007 so don't you dare say I was screwing around. You – have – no – right whatsoever to judge me. These dreams – I thought I was going crazy. I asked Ellie to set me up with a damned shrink. Then I stumbled across Lou and she took pity on me and we dated and we grew close. I didn't have any idea who you or anyone else from the shadows were."

"Well, you know now, buster. You told me you loved me in that R&D Center and then you went and did something heroic and I thought you'd died. I wanted to tell you, to show you, that I loved you but they told me you died without ever regaining consciousness. I won't go through that again. I love you and that's that. Live with it. And live with me, Chuck, not in some stupid apartment where I'll just have to move my stuff into little by little."

"Compromise. Things are progressing in the dreams. I'm not sure how much more there is or why I can't see faces. I can hear voices. Macy calling me 'moron' at every turn and Cole telling me to 'stay in the van, Chuck' and the old standby: 'there's nothing under the cover, Chuck'."

"What's the compromise?"

"We live together in your hotel suite, working to help me integrate the old Chuck with the new Chuck, test my skills and see what I have and don't have from 2.0. At the end of a month, we'll see where we are and how far we have to go. I think that's more than fair considering I just met you less than an hour ago."

"Chuuuk!"

He held up a hand, forestalling her objections.

"Subjectively, I've only known you for an hour. From your reaction to my kiss, it was a first time thing for us, right?"

"Yeah, but…please, since we just 'met', could I have another 'hello' kiss? I haven't felt that kissed before. Please?"

He sighed, as if it was an unpleasant task best tackled and done with.

This time both of them felt like whimpering when it was done. She had allowed herself to let go, to release all her emotional wreckage and channel it into her kiss.

"Wow, Sarah, that was…incredible!"

"I've only just begun to relax around you, to drop the 'Agent Walker' persona with all her rules and regulations and 'thou shalt not's', and just be a woman who loves her man. It'll be better, I promise."

"Happy Rebirthday, Sarah." He kissed her again, softly and with much the same results as the first kiss. Her tongue was tracing the outline of his lower lip and her hand crept up his leg, resting on the evidence of his physical response to the kiss.

"I think we better get back on the road, honey, before I do something I know you're not ready for. Oh, baby, how am I going to live with you, work with you, when all I want to do is cover you with me and not leave the bedroom for a month."

"I'd say you have a real challenge ahead of you, Agent Walker. I'll try to keep it professional during business hours."

She saw the twinkle in his eye. It was new. She thought she knew all of the various Chuck personas but this one was new. "And during personal time?"

"You can help me edit the manuscripts for Dewey. I've got the third book done, just waiting for some little things to gel and then add them to the disk. You get to read it first, before anyone else. I expect you to be critical and correct any of my obvious errors of protocol and operations."

"And after that's done? What then?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. One day at a time, Sarah."

"Fine. Compromise. We'll see how things progress. I'll have to advise the general of our status and see what her instructions are so be prepared to be overruled. I'll present your arguments fairly but she is the general and what she says goes. Now, let's check into the residence and you go get your stuff from the skank's and I'll definitely take a nap."

"Don't be a bitch, Sarah. Lou's a wonderful person and you don't even know anything about her. She was my rock, my life preserver, when I thought I was going nuts. Watch your mouth, OK?"

"Sorry. I'm just…jealous. She's had you for a year and I'll never have that time back. I'll try to dial down the comments about the skank."

"Sarah!"

"Hey, all brunettes are…skanky people."

"Ellie's a brunette, Sarah, and you were friends, best friends."

"OK, so Ellie's the one-in-a-million exception. She's different. She's your sister and not possible competition."

"You drive. I have no idea where this place is. I never dreamed about going there or coming back. In fact, I don't know where the damned Castle is!"

"That's probably a good thing, Chuck. You'd have taken Lou there and then there would have been trouble."

"Yeah. I hadn't thought of that. I called it 'Central Control' in my novel. I guess my subconscious was working at secrecy and security in background."

They changed positions and Sarah immediately started to laugh. She tried to stop but couldn't.

"What's so funny, Agent Walker?"

"I just flashed on a mental image of the skan…I mean the 'shrimp' trying to drive this beast. Her feet wouldn't even reach the pedals, Chuck. Honestly, honey, what were you thinking when you bought this for her?"

Chuck looked out the window and mumbled something.

"What was that? I didn't catch it?"

"I said, I wasn't thinking about her driving it, I was thinking about making her happy. She'd always wanted one and so when I could afford it, I bought it. I just wanted to…make her happy. I didn't think about anything else."

'_You put your foot in your mouth with that smart-assed comment, Walker. Get your head in the game. Use that seduction school training and make nice with your mark.'_

"I wasn't questioning your motives, Chuck, just your judgment. Sometimes getting what we want isn't getting what we need. There's a difference."

"Yeah, I'm coming to that realization more and more," he answered dryly.

Her head snapped around and she stared at him. She'd have to be very careful in her comments until his memory caught up with reality. Had she started his mind questioning 'her _wants_' and 'his _needs_'? She needed to talk with Ellie as soon as possible and get a reading on the Chuck/Lou relationship before she stomped on any more land mines.

She started the Rover and shifted into first gear. The clutch was stiff and she had to grind the gears a bit to get it into 2nd once they were on the street. She missed 3rd gear entirely, hitting 5th and the engine began lugging.

"The pattern's on the shift knob. It's different than a Porsche."

Lou would have memorized the driver's manual, done a physical check, learned the function and operation of each and every gauge, dial, light, switch and knob and then and only then would she have gotten behind the wheel. He mentally shook his head. He was comparing Lou to Sarah and that was just stupid.

Wasn't it?

* * *

A/N: Short but then again, I hadn't planned on rewriting the damned thing in the first place so it probably doesn't flow with my usual elegance (that's a joke, dimbulbs). Curse you PM'ers. Nicole reads them and then starts talking about not disappointing the 'Readers' with a capital 'R'. Project: Learn how to say "No, Nicole" and mean it for longer than 20 minutes.

APR


	7. Moving in and Moving On

LifeTimes Addendum2

_**WARNING: YOU ARE ENTERING A SMUT ZONE! **_

Don't blame me. It wasn't my idea. I just wrote it…lol.

* * *

CIA Residence Hotel

For once, Chuck paid attention to the route followed to their destination rather than people watching or Sarah watching.

"This whole thing is owned and operated by the CIA?"

"The Combine. Any intelligence agent, officer or analyst can stay free of charge."

"Cool." He pulled her bags from the back seat and carried them into the lobby where Sarah was completing a form, getting a retina scan and having her thumbprint registered. They'd eliminated locks entirely.

"I'll need my partner setup also. This is Agent Bartowski of the NSA."

The official accessed the computer records and then stepped back as a bullet-proof Lexan window dropped to the counter. Lights began flashing and suddenly 3 security guards with Uzis formed a perimeter around them, weapons pointing at the couple.

"Do not move. We are authorized to use deadly force to gain compliance. Agent Walker, step away from this man. He is an imposter, probably a mole trying to infiltrate the facility. YOU, down on your knees, ankles crossed and fingers interlaced and behind your head."

"Wait, there's been a mistake…"

"Charles Bartowski is dead. He died in a hospice in Carmel, CA over a year ago. This man is probably Fulcrum or Ring. He is not Charles Bartowski."

Chuck's hands were manacled behind his back and he was carried/dragged away. He never said a word. Never looked at Sarah, never protested his innocence. He just sighed and went with the flow.

"Call General Beckman. She'll straighten this out. He was reported dead and he had amnesia. He's my partner and you'd better square this mess away or Beckman will have your balls for breakfast."

Two hours later, Beckman returned from a White House briefing and returned Sarah's call. She'd been sitting in the lobby, waiting impatiently for the call.

"General, they've arrested Agent Bartowski claiming he's Ring or Fulcrum because the real Bartowski is dead. Please straighten this out with the security officer here in Burbank."

"We haven't changed his status yet in case we need to use his 'death' as another cover layer, Agent Walker. Hand your phone to the head of the security detail."

They brought Chuck up from the basement detention area. Someone had worked him over pretty good and the two guards were supporting him since he couldn't seem to stand upright on his own. He would soon sport a black eye and other assorted bruises and Sarah turned on the head of the security detail with murder in her eye.

"What's the meaning of this? Do you not know the proper procedure for interrogation when the identity of the subject is in question? You've beaten an agent of the NSA and General Beckman's pride and joy as well as my partner. Kiss your career goodbye."

She heard one of the security guards mention that he hadn't even muttered a syllable even when they used the cattle prod on his 'crotch'. The guard struck the wall opposite from where he'd been standing with a satisfying crunch. Her deadly spin kick to the head had worked its magic and one guard would be bruised for weeks as a result.

Neither said a word and she'd helped him onto the elevator. He'd stepped away from her and leaned against the elevator car wall and just breathed deeply. She wondered about cracked or bruised or even broken ribs. Sarah helped Chuck into their suite and over onto the couch in the living room.

"Someone is bringing up my luggage, honey. You just lie down and catch your breath. Does it hurt to breathe? Did those bastards hurt you…down there?" He had immediately curled into a ball on the couch and closed his eyes.

"I'm…fine. It's OK. Just go do your thing. I'll be OK in a few minutes."

"Do you need a doctor? There's one on call here." She sat and maneuvered his head onto her lap, stroking his hair and wishing he hadn't cut off his curls.

"Sarah, I said I was OK. Just let me catch my breath. I don't feel like you do, I don't feel deep pain and I think that pissed them off. I suppose the old Chuck would have been weeping and wailing at the sight of the cattle prod."

"What do you mean?" She hadn't been briefed on any of his physical limitations if there were any. He'd obviously been in physical training and she couldn't imagine Beckman allowing that…wait, no one knew he was alive until Carina read his book.

"I was shot in a robbery attempt 2 months ago, bicep, small caliber, and I never felt it. I think the new intersect has something to do with it."

She asked him for details and he told her what he remembered. She made a mental note to discuss this new revelation with the general. Was it an enhancement he'd absorbed from 2.0 or a byproduct of the electrocution? He'd killed two men and hadn't gone all _'Chuck' on himself?_ This was new and she wasn't sure she liked it.

Devon called and asked where he was and so Chuck pulled himself up while Sarah was in the shower and announced through the door that he was leaving to pick up Devon. He was gone before she could stop him. For some reason, she'd stopped to wrap up in a towel before confronting him – something she wouldn't have done if she was still 'on the prowl'.

Changes were happening to both of them. She wanted to be 'decent' with Chuck and not a leg-spreader. She tried to call him but remembered she didn't have his new cell number. Frustrated, she finished putting her stuff away and then sat down to wait for him to return.

* * *

Lou's Apartment  
North Hollywood, CA

She was there even though he knew she was scheduled to work. After an awkward 'hello' between the three, Devon started taking what was obviously Chuck's stuff down to the Rover. She'd gone through and sorted through stuff for him, wanting to minimize any confrontations.

"Lou, I want that picture of us at Pair-'O-Dice Publishing. It's a thing I will always want to remember. Please, don't be an ass, baby." He cringed at the 'baby' but habits were hard to break.

"No. Your new girlfriend won't understand or appreciate it if you have it. Use that brain of yours, Chuck. I'm not being mean, I'm trying to help you out here. I know what's coming and you don't. Trust me. If you ever felt anything at all for me, trust me on this."

"You and Ellie, you both knew about her, about how I felt. You, above all others, I'd expected to stand by me. We've changed history, Lou. We fell in love, well, at least _I _did. Why didn't you tell me? It would have been a game changer." He was angry all over again at her betrayal and at himself for the love comment.

"Would you have believed that the dreams were real? I didn't until I saw where they were going and related it to real events in our past. I was going to lose you eventually, better now than later when I had more invested in you."

"Well, thanks for a wonderful six months, Lou. At least I got that out of all this. Keep the damned photograph. You're right as usual."

He stormed out of the apartment (again) and left poor Devon to make awkward inquiries and carry down his accumulated crap and clothes.

Devon has seemed unusually standoffish and he had a feeling he knew why.

"So, Devon, how's married life?" Innocent question asked while he was driving Devon back to Ellie's apartment.

"Great! I wish we'd…oh, shit! How long have you known?"

"Ten seconds."

"Chuck, Ellie wan…"

"Shut up, Devon. I know why she did it. My sister loves me and wanted to protect me from having forgotten her wedding, seeing people I didn't remember in photographs. How could she say she was married to you and still…it's complicated, isn't it? You better take care of her, Devon, or you'll answer to me, understand?"

Devon, who normally would have snickered at a threat of physical violence from Chuck only nodded his head. He was afraid of his brother-in-law, ever since the robbery attempt and before, when he'd stumbled onto Chuck's secret life. Chuck did some totally 'unChuck' things since his accident. He was Awesome Chuck but in a frightening way. And now he was recovering from being dumped and it didn't seem to faze him one bit.

Chuck drove Devon back to his and Ellie's apartment. "So I guess it's now Casa Woodcomb, huh?"

"Yeah, but you'll always be welcome, little bro, always."

"Thanks. Who knows what'll happen in the future? I might blow all my money and have to go back to the damned Buy More."

Chuck drove back to the residence hotel, pulled his suitcases from the back of the Rover and started towards the elevators. Two of the security guards appeared and snatched his luggage from him and led the way to the elevator and then to the room door before disappearing. Neither had said a word and each of them kept their distance.

He'd never gotten 'registered' and so he had to knock. Sarah opened the door immediately and helped him in with his suitcases. "Only two, Chuck?"

"Yeah. Rest of the crap's in the Rover and can go to storage or charity for all I care. Except the laptop. I just ran out of hands."

"C'mon in, rest your weary bones for a while and then we'll go down together and bring back what you want and get you registered. This is your suite, too, Chuck. So, how'd it go with Devon?"

"Fine. I'm glad he was there. Lou was there. We had another damned argument and I left all the 'lifting' to Devon. She'd already sorted out mine from hers. It was very awkward." He really didn't want to talk about it anymore. Living it once had been bad enough.

She wanted to order take-out for dinner but he wanted a 'date'. She smiled and accepted his dinner invitation, knowing he'd take her to the Golden Dragon Chinese Restaurant, their old take-out place, but he surprised her.

"Wear a dress or something not casual. It's a surprise. Well, probably not for you but it will be for me."

She just smiled, kissed his cheek and went to dress 'up'.

He handed her the Rover keys. "You drive. You need the practice if we're going to keep 'the Beast'." She stuck her tongue out at him but took the keys and soon they were driving down the L.A. Harbor Freeway towards San Pedro. She wondered if he'd remembered something or if it was just a coincidence. He was very quiet on the drive down to San Pedro and she wondered again if his encounter with the security team had left injuries he wasn't willing or able to discuss. She'd proceed with caution. She didn't want him in pain and have it be her fault.

She pulled into the lot and then turned to him with a question. "We've, that is you and I, have been here before on a cover date, Chuck. Is it something you remembered?"

"I think so. I have this image of Serena and I eating paella and then dancing and then walking on the boardwalk and talking. It might be a memory or a wish, who knows?"

"It's one of the best memories I have of us together as your handler, Chuck. It was just a cover date but it was wonderful. You swept me off my feet with just being yourself. I was lost, gone, consumed by something I didn't even understand because I'd never felt anything for a man but lust before."

"So you didn't have lusty feelings for me, Agent Walker?" _Agent Walker_ again but she knew he was teasing.

"Oh, no. Not then. Now? Oh yeah!" She leaned across and kissed him lightly. "Lust and love and all kinds of other emotions all mixed up. Now, feed me, then we'll dance and see about baseball."

"Baseball, Sarah? I don't think the team's in town tonight." He was thoroughly confused by the reference to baseball.

"1st base, 2nd base, 3rd base…home plate…" She laughed as recognition dawned on him. He could still be so innocent.

* * *

It was almost midnight when they got back to Burbank. They'd both had a wonderful time. Sarah hadn't wanted to stop dancing 'the slow ones where we actually touch' but Chuck mentioned that they still hadn't sorted out the sleeping arrangements and that sort of dampened Sarah's mood.

'_He doesn't remember. I do but he doesn't. I won't push him.'_

"Chuck Bartowski, you are not sleeping on the couch. We're adults. It's a huge bed. Just don't hog the covers."

That settled it as far as Sarah was concerned. Chuck was uncomfortable with the idea but finally just gave in mentally.

Sometime in the early hours of the morning the two ended up spooned together. Sarah awoke to the delightful feeling of warm breath on her exposed neck and strong arms holding her. Her t-shirt had ridden up and was bothering her so she sat up and tossed it off and then rolled over against his chest and he automatically swept her into a soft embrace, one arm holding her and the other across her butt, one cheek held firmly in a large warm hand. Sarah slid a soft thigh between his and nuzzled his chest. She sighed happily and fell into a dreamless sleep.

Chuck woke up holding a soft bundle of blonde who somehow had lost her clothes during the night. She was snoring softly into his chest and he pressed a kiss into her hair delighting in the memories he'd regained during the night. So this was what waking up was going to be like for the rest of his life? He could get used to it.

Apparently the hair on his chest tickled her nose when she snored and periodically she rubbed her nose against him to 'scratch' it and then resumed her sleeping and snoring. He didn't want to disturb her but he really had to use the can.

"Agent Walker, um, Agent Walker?" No response. She just held him tighter for an instant and then resumed her snoring.

"Sarah…Sarah…please, Sarah. I have to get up. Wake up and let go, please? I really need to…"

"No. Don' wanna…"

He finally resorted to picking her up and sitting up and setting her back down in the warm spot he'd just left and covering her with the comforter. He wouldn't be gone long.

He lifted the lid and sighed. Finished, he flushed and then looked at the shower and then at his watch. He was up for the day. Let his little blonde spy sleep in. He would go for his run and then slip back in and shower without waking her up. It would take her a while to adjust to the time change and sleeping in would help.

Sarah woke the instant the suite door closed, alert and aware that she was sleeping alone. Damn him! If he was on the couch there would be hell to pay. She knew he'd been in bed with her because she could smell his scent on the sheets. She giggled, yes, giggled, when she imagined the look on his face when he realized she'd 'lost' her (actually _his_) t-shirt sometime during the night.

It was chilly in the room and she figured if he was asleep on the couch it was his loss and so she slipped back to sleep.

Chuck stepped back into the suite sometime shortly after 7am and crept through the bedroom and into the shower. Sarah woke up the instant he opened the suite door and cracked open one eye and followed his path through the darkened room. He'd been for a run. She should have been with him. She heard the shower turn on and figured 'better late than never' and slipped out of bed.

She sat to do her morning business and sat down and down and down until her ass connected with cold water. Very cold water. She let out a sharp scream and leapt up, panties around her ankles. Chuck stepped from the shower, ready to do battle with hordes of enemy agents. Sarah stood there with a look of shock on her face that morphed into anger.

"Do not _ever_ fail to put the toilet seat back down, Charles Bartowski!"

She looked so…shocked – and adorable at that moment. He couldn't help it. He mentally snickered and then walked over and lowered the toilet seat quietly and kissed her lightly and stepped back into the shower. Neither seemed aware of their varying degrees of nakedness.

Chuck felt the shower door open and then close again. He was waiting for the inevitable glass of cold water to come cascading down over him but instead Sarah just slipped between him and the shower stream and commanded "Wash my hair for me, please?" pointing to the shampoo already on the shower ledge.

Sometime between washing and rinsing her hair, she retrieved a bottle of body wash and started covering him with lather. As she moved lower and lower on his chest she switched to his back and finally got to her original objective. She grabbed his butt with soapy hands and pulled him as close to her as she could and then attacked his mouth grinding her pelvis against him, reveling in his obvious maleness throbbing against her abdomen.

"Sarah, as much as I want this to continue, it has to stop. Please! I know you think it's stupid but we just met and mentally I'm just developing feelings for Serena. I saw her face last night for the first time, Sarah, your face. Please, don't push me. Everything will work out for us if you're just patient."

She gave him a little squeeze and rinsed off her hair. "OK, but I'm not known for my patience, Chuck."

"Maybe I should get a short-term rental until things progress. Right now, however, I'm trying to wrap my mind around some of the things we've done and you need to unwrap your hand from around my…."

"No. We stay together. Orders."

She grinned evilly and stroked his arousal. "Finish up here and let's get cracking on the next chapter in the book. I've done a lot of things in my life but I've never been an editor. Glancing down at his erection, she said, "Need some help with that?"

"OUT! Jesus H. Christ, Walker, cut me a break here!"

"That's for leaving the toilet seat up, Bartowski!"

APR


	8. Hot Buttered Muffins

LifeTimesAddendum3

_Serena Cole had the hot-to-trots for MI6 agent Geoffrey Smiley. Graham Beck had seen the internal security tapes, heard their mutterings and the sights and sounds of their lovemaking. "Turn it off, Macy. I get the picture. Just give them their privacy."_

"_Just so you know, Beck, she's a spy through and through and you're just her mark. She likes you but you're still just a mark to her. See, that Limey is the kind of guy that melts her butter, not you, Beck. I'm not doing this to be mean to you, just to educate you. They're all alike, girl spies. Stand 'em on their heads and they all look alike. Get 'em on their back and they do what comes naturally. He isn't the first and won't be the last."_

Sarah stared at the laptop screen, not seeing anything written there. _'Why did he have to remember that of all things? It wasn't about Chuck and me, it was about me needing someone that I could relate to in a physical way. Why did he have to remember it? And why did Casey/Macy have to be so…vulgar in his description?'_

Chuck was dozing and she kissed his ear and washed it with her tongue. "Damn it, Sarah, I'm only human! Please cool it with the PDAs for a while."

"I'll try, Chuck. But I love you and I can see you outside the cover now. There is not cover. But I wanted to ask you…to tell you…about Cole. It wasn't an emotional thing with me, Chuck, it was just a physical fling, an release, nothing more."

"I don't want to hear anything about Cole Barker or what you felt. Just edit the chapter, Sarah. What's done is done. It's a work of fiction, nothing more."

"Please, sweetheart, let me explain…"

Chuck rolled off the bed where he'd been dozing while Sarah edited the most recent compilation of dreams set in the world that he'd invented to record and analyze his dreams.

_Turning them into a novel had obviously been someone else's idea, certainly not Chuck's. Not that he wasn't smart enough. No. He just wouldn't think of merchandising his dreams in such a creative manner. It must have been Lou's._

He walked into the living room muttering something about 'Cole buttering her muffin' and Sarah leaped from the bed and followed him into the living room, mad as hell.

"Damn it, Chuck, will you please let it go? That was a long time ago. Barker is history, bad history. I'm sorry but I'm only human and that was such a difficult time in our relationship. I could have gone to Fiji with him but I chose to stay with you because I loved you even though we couldn't be together. I couldn't give you any hints about how I felt other than staying with you."

"Thanks for that, I guess. I'll just get out of your way and let you edit it any damned way you please. Just keep the tone the same, though. I'm going to run over to the gym. I need to work off some of this nervous energy. See you around 2pm."

She watched him close the door harder than he normally would. She knew this was her fault, not his. She was pushing him and she'd been warned to ease off and let things progress naturally as his mind reintegrated his memories into his consciousness. She hadn't been kidding when she told Chuck she wasn't known for her patience.

_'This isn't going to work. This isn't fair to him. He was better off with Lou. I love him. I have to do what's best for him in the long run and I don't think I'm what's best for him.'_

Before she can do more than finish the thought, Chuck opens the door and slams it, startling Sarah. His facial features are like a stone carving, hard, angular and cold, so unlike her Chuck.

"Get packed. We're going to Vegas. Not another word, Sarah. Not one more word. We'll finish the book and then that's the end of it, understand?"

"But Chuck, you said…"

"Never mind what I said. I can't live like this. I can't wake up and face the crushing despair in my life any longer. Every time I think it's over another load of crap drops out of Fate's ass and I'm done with it. If you really love me, and if, as you say I really love you, then it's a done deal. I can't live with this…this constant soap opera my life seems to have become. It's supposed to have a happy ending so let's give it one. Pack, Walker. I'll make reservations." "

"But Chuck, stop and think about this for a couple of minutes. You're overwrought. You're getting to the most difficult time in our relationship and you need to experience it while we're…apart like we are now. I don't think a marriage, especially under these circumstances, would survive. These next months are horrible, Chuck, and it's no one's fault. Please, don't make me…"

"I'm calling Ellie and if she and Devon want to be there, fine, otherwise it'll be the big-haired-trailer park-trashy assistant who witnesses it. It's not what I want but by God it's what I need. Move your ass, Sarah Walker."

"No, Chuck, not like this. Please. Think it through. You have to have your heart and your mind in the same place and baby, they are months apart. We'll wait and finish the book as your memories reintegrate. Please. I won't marry you under these circumstances."

"Then go back to wherever you were and whoever you were with before my 'resurrection'. I'm sure you can explain it to the general and slide right back into your old life. From what I've seen, that seems to be your strength, Agent Walker, retreating to your comfort zone."

He didn't care that she was upset, crying, sobbing into her pillow. He didn't give a damn about anyone anymore. No one would tell him a single truth until he'd confronted them with the evidence from his dreams. Dreams? Fucking nightmares.

* * *

He threw his stuff into his bags and was out of the suite in less than 5 minutes. In another 5 minutes he was heading southeast to Palm Springs. He had arrangements to make, a life to finalize and he needed someplace safe, secure and isolated to do it. He flipped open his cell and speed dialed a number.

"Augie, Chuck. Not good at all. Listen, your offer of using your place in Tahoe still open? I need to rethink some things and this place is just too crowded and too close to be objective."

He listened, made some notes, and then closed his cell after thanking her. He made a U-turn and headed for the 5. He'd be in Tahoe before dark.

* * *

_"Lazarus is on the move. Bravo, pick him up and stay on him. Check back in every 15 minutes. Charlie and Delta, deploy north. Alpha is going to the Love Nest for consultations."_

John Casey flashed his ID to the security guard and got on the elevator. This whole op was screwed up. He hated watching his ex-partner go through such mental agonies after what he'd done for the Team.

He banged on the door and he brushed by a crying Sarah Walker and sat down on the couch. "Well, that could have gone better, Walker. I told you not to push him. He's going to crack like an egg if we can't get this under control."

"I didn't push him. You heard the argument. He was pushing me. You know what the shrinks said. You know how these next few dreams are the critical ones. We have to know what he knows, Casey, and we can't wait for him to dream it."

"I've got a unit tailing him. He called his lawyer. He's going to her place to sort this all out. I don't know, Walker. Maybe we should have left him with Lou for a while longer." He held up a hand forestalling her objections.

"I know, she dumped him. We could have made contact, explained the situation and asked her to reconsider in the short term. I don't know what we'd have done if the moron had actually given her the ring. That would have been uncomfortable for all concerned."

"Colonel Casey, he's not a moron. He's been out in the cold all this time without any real support. You didn't see the look on his face. He's holding in so much pain. John, I need to talk to him. Let me 'follow' him to his lawyer's place. I can wait outside the office and approach him in public."

"You misunderstood. His 'lawyer's place' isn't her office, it's her vacation home in Tahoe."

"He – he's going away with her? Jesus, what is it with Bartowski and brunettes?" She needed to stay close to him, keep her in his mind, and keep him focused.

Uncharacteristically, Casey laughed. "Idiot! She's married and he…might as well be. He's taking her up on her offer of using it to 'write' away from things. Didn't you read the briefing package we'd prepared for you?"

"Casey, find out where this get-away is and get me a spot near it. I'll be there when he needs me. I don't care about protocol. I'm compromised, so what. It's not going to get in the way. The mission objectives and my personal objectives coincide. We need him healthy and I just plain need him."

"That's a good idea. I'll get right on it. Your car's in the lot. The key's under the mat as usual. Just don't get there before he does. And keep a low profile. Delta team is going to the cabin via chopper to wire it for sight and sound and check for any security problems. He'll be safe while he's there."

"He would have been safer here, Casey. We shouldn't have let him bolt like that. We have no idea what he's thinking or his short term intentions."

"Actually, Sarah, he made his intentions quite clear. It's not my place, but you should just go with what your heart tells you. Maybe Vegas wasn't such a bad idea. At least then he wouldn't be running around the playground with scissors in his hand."

"He's not a child. Could you have done what he did? Could you handle things falling apart around you as well as he has? No, you couldn't and neither could I. Vegas would have been a mistake for us."

"Yes, a mistake for Chuck and Sarah but the right thing for Agent Walker to do with her asset, and that's what he is until he gets his memory back – our asset."

"Agent Walker has no intention of marrying the mark. That was all for the mission. Sarah will marry Chuck and it's forever, not just until the mark is no longer 'viable'. Understand the difference, Casey? I wouldn't have four years ago."

"Before you take off, here's his cell number, a GPS locator and his shield and weapon. Stay in touch, Agent Walker. Remember the bugs and cameras. I don't want to see any porn coming across the monitors. My temporary associates are all virgins."

"Thanks. I need to stop by and talk with Ellie. She has no idea I'm back in his life."

"That should be an interesting conversation. I'll update the General. Y'know, she'd have gone to Vegas."

"She's not marrying him, I am. Yech, what an image."

* * *

Casa Woodcomb  
Burbank, CA

Sarah was unprepared for the 'welcome' she got from Ellie. Sarah said "Hi, Ellie, I'm back" and Ellie started to cry and then tried to take her head off. She hit all the high points in her rant.

"You bitch! You left us without any way of getting in touch with you. Casey just said you'd been reassigned. You never tried to contact me. Even after he came home you ignored him. What kind of love is that, Sarah? The spy kind? He didn't deserve being abandoned. It was all a lie, wasn't it? The 'cover', right? Casey left without even a goodbye, too. Well, get out! You left him, Lou dumped him and now he's somewhere alone and I can't find him."

"He's on his way to Lake Tahoe. I'm going to join him. The hospice reported that he'd died. The NSA and CIA purged his files. I found out he was dead and I almost lost my mind. I was on assignment but I just didn't care anymore. Then Carina gave me a copy of his book and Casey started looking for him. You know about that."

"You left him. You left him to die alone." She harped on the one thing she could. Sarah hadn't even tried to contact Ellie. If she thought Chuck was dead, why didn't she even call or send a condolence card – anything.

"I had my orders. I had to get away. My lover was dead, Ellie, and I was on a deep cover assignment. I left it when I got suspicious when Casey told Carina he might be alive and I called Beckman. The general told me to 'go home' and I have come home but now he's so torn up over things he's remembering that it's falling apart around us."

Sarah held up her hand. "We're engaged, Ellie. As soon as his memory catches up with him, we're getting married if he'll still have me after all of this."

Magic words. Healing words. Hopeful words.

"Ellie, I need your help with something…"

APR


	9. Drowning in Booze and a Hot Tub

LifeTimesAddendum4

A/N: Read this chapter verrrry carefully. Thanks to the Magnificent Seven who are still hanging in there. Almost done.

APR

* * *

Augie's 'getaway' was a small log house on the Nevada side of the lake. It had a small dock , a gallery porch and a hot tub. Chuck switched on the electricity and checked the propane tank and he was in business.

He unpacked, made a list, double-checked the doors and drove into the small village that was only 10 minutes away. He could feel the tension leaving him as he drove slowly and carefully out to the main road. He'd hate to have to plow the winding 'drive way' in winter.

He hit the grocery store and chuckled when a 'box boy' packed his things in several cardboard boxes and carried them out to the Beast. He tipped him, checked off 'food' on his list and headed for the liquor store. Again, he smiled as a young man packed his purchases in a Four Roses carton and carried it out to his truck. It was like 1960 up here.

He found his last stop right next to a small casino/bar. He figured there had to be one near the casino and he'd been right. Nevada towns had casinos, bars and…pawn shops.

He browsed the display case, quickly spotting what he needed. Now he had to do some fast talking and probably bribing to get past the paperwork requirements.

An old man walked over and asked Chuck if he could 'hep ya fin' summun'.

"Yeah. I need a hand gun. I'm going to be doing some work out at a cabin and the owner told me there were snakes in the rocks and I need something in case I run into one who isn't as afraid of me as I am of it. Whatcha got?"

The old guy looked Chuck up and down. The bruises from the security team at the hotel were starting to bloom. Apparently accepting his story he handed Chuck the same pistol he was looking at: a 1911 Colt.

"Fo' hunnerd and paperwork. Yo' pick it up Friday." He started pulling out some forms and Chuck peeled off 8 Franklins and pushed them across the glass top. "I got to work today. I need it today. And two extra magazines and 2 boxes of bullets."

The old man smiled an almost toothless grin. The money disappeared and just as quickly he handed Chuck a bag with his 'requirements'.

"Yep. All kins a snakes and critters out there. Ya'll take care, young fella." He turned and walked back behind the counter area and Chuck heard him chuckle and open a safe. Chuck just shook his head at the ridiculous law and how easy it was to get what he needed without delay.

He looked across the street at the small hotel/casino and promised himself he'd come back later and play a few hands of poker. Maybe he'd get lucky and meet some nice hooker without agendas and spend some quality time with someone…oh, wait, he'd already been doing that. Shaking his head and marveling that he'd reached the ripe old age of 30 without dying, he got in the Beast and drove back to the lake house.

* * *

It got dark quickly in the mountains. One minute it was late afternoon, the next it was dark. He sat on the porch rethinking his latest chapter and toying with the idea of just tossing it all in the lake and taking the Beast out and letting it have its head. He could be in Canada in 3 days, St. Louis or Dallas or even Houston in 3 days.

Nope. Couldn't do it. He'd signed a contract and he'd keep his word. He finished his second whiskey and water and went back inside to shower and go to bed. He was almost excited about seeing what catastrophe his mind could invent for him while he slept. Barker and Walker would be a hard act to follow.

* * *

The next morning came much too soon. Bryce was dead, Ellie was married, Sarah was going to leave with Bryce but he died trying to save Chuck from…he didn't know yet. He'd almost had it all, the girl, a future, the intersect out of his head…and somehow he just knew he'd blow it all eventually.

He spent the next 2 hours hammering out a rough draft of the chapter, stopping only to hit the head and make coffee. He was satisfied that the main thread of his dreams had been put down on paper in sequence. He was almost sorry he'd awakened. He felt impatient to dream the final dream and then move on. He couldn't stay in this place forever. He had to get out and do something with the time he had left.

He glanced out the window at another beautiful day and decided to go for a run around the lake, at least a few miles along the shoreline. He changed and then went out onto the porch and did some stretching exercises and started off northward at a brisk pace but then stopped and went back into the cabin, put his pistol in the waistband of his shorts and again took off. It was cool and he felt good. He edited the chapter he'd written as he ran, unaware that eyes were on him the entire time.

"_This is Delta. Alpha, he's carrying. Don't know where he got it. Consider Lazarus 'armed and dangerous' if anyone has to approach."_

"_Agreed. Bravo, have someone toss the cabin and see what other surprises Lazarus has for us. Barbie will be checking in later this evening sometime. Keep eyes on the mark for now."_

He finished his outward bound leg and started back to the cabin. He'd only seen two other cabins and they appeared to be unoccupied. Augie had said it was 'the wrong time of the year' for many cabins to be occupied. Something about late snows, sudden squalls and generally miserable weather. He looked around and smiled. It was as close to deserted and perfect as it could be.

"_This is Delta. Lazarus is returning to the nest. Four miles out and a good pace. Sucker's in good shape. Continuing over watch."_

Chuck walked the last 50 yards, cooling down. He walked out onto the dock and took off his runners and dangled his feet in the cold water. If it warmed up, he'd try swimming along the shoreline instead of running for a change of pace. He was proud of how well Ellie's 2nd wedding had come off. Sure, he'd spent most of his money on it but after seeing her in tears, it was well worth it. Now he didn't feel as guilty about missing the wedding. He'd paid for it. He remembered it.

He mulled over Bryce's death and his loss of Sarah to her fears. He'd been free of the download thanks to his Dad but somehow he just knew he had to reintersect himself to secure it from Fulcrum and the…he couldn't remember the new group's name. It was right on the tip of his tongue.

He smiled. He could flash at will now with minor pain and he had apparently absorbed a lot of the special skills inherent in the 2.0 during his coma. Maybe that was what was interfering with his memory?

He walked into the cabin to rewrite a few passages and do the final edit. He'd send it all to Augie as they'd agreed. No sense keeping Walker from her new duties. Beckman would pull her ass out of L.A. due to the busted mission. She'd probably be ecstatic about the change. Apparently the truth came at the price of an engagement ring.

He saved the final product to disk and then opened his email and sent Augie the next chapter as an attachment. He was pleased with how it was written. He was upset with the topics covered. Poor Graham Beck. At least he'd have closure in Chuck's novel. He'd already worked out the ending in his own mind.

* * *

Casey sat in his motor home reading the intercepted chapter. He didn't like the tone of this installment. There was something different in the pacing and in the selection of words. There was more introspection on Beck's part than in other chapters. He was reaching conclusions based on available information and making the wrong choices and assumptions. He lacked the proper context in most cases. Serena Cole wasn't helping things with her hot and cold running love either. At least Jackson Macy hadn't let him down in this chapter. Casey took pride in that. He'd supported his partner.

He was unable to help his ex-partner. It was not in the mission protocols. Contact, except in extreme situations, was forbidden. He had a feeling he was watching a train wreck in progress. The dreams were accelerating which was good but the groupings of the recovered memories left too many unanswered questions for Chuck.

He released the email to continue to its original destination, Chuck's lawyer. Chuck had written that he also wanted to amend some of his legal 'stuff' that Augie was handling and he'd advise her of the changes via email.

* * *

The white Porsche convertible roared up the highway towards Tahoe. She had the top down, letting her light brown tresses free to do whatever they wanted in the wind. She ran her fingers through her shorn hair and hoped she'd done the right thing. So far all she'd done was screw up everything she'd touched. She should be supporting him, helping him integrate the new memories, giving him context. Instead she'd retreated back into agent mode and given him the Company line. Casey was right. She should have gone to Vegas.

Chuck grilled a steak for dinner and then retreated to the hot tub with his whiskey. The hot tub was soothing and relaxing but brought up too many memories of Lou and the Jacuzzi. Lou would have loved Augie's hot tub. She would have found a way to jog him out of his doldrums. She always said and did the right thing. She'd been right to break it off. She knew things he hadn't known until a few days ago. She was just protecting herself.

The question was, who would protect him?

He finished his fourth drink and just sat back and enjoyed the hot water. He was mentally and physically tired. Maybe it was the booze or maybe it was his subconscious lulling him into a state of ennui but soon he fell asleep and he dreamed.

Leaving Sarah at the train station, breaking her heart. Failing spy school. Going home in disgrace (again). Sarah spreading her legs for the damned greater good. His inability to flash due to his over-active emotions. The shame and disappointment. His broken heart. Her cold disdain for all he'd become.

He'd kissed her at some club and she'd knocked him on his ass. He deserved it. She was working. She was in danger and he'd compromised the mission. He couldn't breathe. The shame was too much. He was choking and it didn't matter.

"_You can't hurt me any more, Chuck."_

The dream stopped abruptly and he knew no more.

"_Alpha, Bravo over watch. He passed out and slipped under the water in the hot tub. He's not breathing and Bravo-two is doing mouth to mouth. Advise."_

"_Crap! Move him into the cabin and put him on the bed. An EMT is on the way. Keep up the CPR._"

Casey was in a rage. The stupid moron knew better than to drink heavily and then get in a hot tub. The alcohol would hit him hard and he'd pass out. He only hoped his team wasn't too late.

"Walker, secure. I'm a half-hour out, Casey."

"The moron got drunk and passed out in a hot tub. Bravo team extracted him and did CPR. The EMTs are working on him. This isn't going to work, Sarah. He's become morose and self-destructive since leaving Burbank. We're going to have to tell him, get him to somehow come up with the names. Maybe hypnosis or something. I have to report this to Beckman. She's going to want full psych and detention, Sarah. I'm sorry."

"Casey, please! Don't give up on him. It wasn't suicide, just poor judgment. We both owe him our lives. Let's give him another chance at his."

"Beckman has to be told, Sarah." He didn't want to do it but orders were orders.

"I'll be there in 20 minutes. Get him stabilized and leave the door unlocked. Kill surveillance until I tell you otherwise. Either that, or get your teams popcorn. It's time for the feature film."

"What about Beckman?"

"Tell her I'm handling it like I wanted to in the first place. No more games. He'll remember when he can and I'll be there 24/7 to make sure he doesn't 'slip under' again. He needs to put all this crap he's recovering into context and he can't alone. I'll be his context. Please, John, don't ruin two lives."

"Move your ass, Barbie. I'll tell Beckman it was an accident. He slipped."

"_Alpha, EMT-1. Lazarus is stabilized with no complications except he's puked up half a hot tub. I'll roll him on his stomach and maybe it'll teach him a lesson."_

"_EMT-1, Alpha. Find his cannon and put it out of his immediate reach. He's going to have a visitor and I don't want any blue on blue."_

"_Roger."_

* * *

Sarah found Casey's 'command post' and walked in.

"Some operation you got here, Casey. A mobile Castle. What's his status?"

"He's asleep. Colt's out of reach so you won't have to dodge any bullets. Here, read this." He handed her a copy of Chuck's latest chapter that had been emailed to Augi. She read it and then lowered the printout to her lap and looked up at the ceiling, blinking her eyes rapidly, trying not to let the tears form. "Aw, shit."

"You need to give him context and background, Sarah. He's learning things from his subconscious that may be filtered by other experiences. He's changing Beck into the Chuck we knew right after Spy School and the mess that brought on. The whole character is changing from a trusting but naïve guy to some bitter and defeated loser. He's been hitting the bottle pretty hard since he got here although he still runs hard every morning."

* * *

She parked her white Porsche beside his Rover and let herself in to the cabin. The living room lamps were on and she dropped her bags near the door and wandered around. There was a hot tub on the side deck. It was out of sight of the road. Casey's team had done a great job pulling him out.

She walked upstairs to the bedroom/loft and saw him lying on his stomach, asleep. She could smell him from where she stood. Alcohol and vomit.

Sarah walked downstairs and retrieved her bags, placing them at the foot of the bed. She'd unpack later. She stripped to her underwear and went to find clean sheets.

"Chuck Bartowski, wake up, get into the shower. It's running and you're wasting Augie's money. Get yourself cleaned up while I remake the bed."

He never looked at her, just lurched into the bathroom and closed the door.

She changed the sheets, almost losing her lunch at the smell. The mattress cover was dry so she just put on the clean sheets and waited for him to get himself together. She sat in a recliner in the corner of the loft, a lamp on behind her, shadowing her face and features.

Chuck walked out of the bathroom, naked with a towel around his shoulders. He walked over to his suitcase and pulled on a pair of boxers and then walked downstairs to the kitchen and began to make coffee. He felt like shit.

He turned and started to ask his companion a question but realized he shouldn't have a companion. He looked at her but all he could see was her profile and short hair. He wondered where he'd left his pistol. No one knew where he was but Augie and she wouldn't be here. _'You're wasting Augi's money…'_

His mind was racing, forming plans and discarding them until finally he just sighed and mentally said 'fuck it'. He got a cup out of the cabinet and poured himself some coffee. Buying time, he walked out onto the deck and sat down, his feet in the hot tub. It was off and the water had cooled rapidly in the night air. He shivered but forced himself to sit and slowly drink his coffee as if he didn't have a care in the world.

He mentally wrote the next chapter, ending it with _'You can't possibly hurt me any more, Beck.'_ This latest round of dreams had changed his focus and intent. The hero of his novel wasn't a hero at all. He stumbled and bumbled his way through life wreaking holy hell on everyone around him.

His 'good intentions' didn't make up for what he did. The fact that his involvement was involuntary to begin with was irrelevant. His actions were testimony to his inability to perform.

Well, Beck wouldn't hurt anyone through inaction or action again. He would kill him off in some spectacularly symbolic manner and then it would be over.

He'd get to that shortly. But first, he had to find out about his uninvited guest.


	10. An Agent Named Samantha

LifeTimesAddendum5

* * *

She watched him make coffee and decisions. He poured himself a cup and walked out onto the deck and dangled his feet in the hot tub. _'What's he up to? What does he think I'm doing here? Why hasn't he shown any interest other than a casual glance toward where I'm sitting?'_

"Screw this!" She opened up her suitcase and pulled on a sweatshirt and jeans and walked barefoot down to the living room and out onto the deck. With the lights in the room behind her, he couldn't see her face.

"Are you going to introduce yourself, Agent, or are we going to get each other's attention by grunting? You already know who I am. You called me by name. So, do you have a name, Agent?"

"Yes, of course I do." She sounded impatient, not at all how she intended to come across but she did.

"Does it have an 'N' in it?"

"I'm sorry? Does what have an 'N' in it?

"Your name. Since you obviously expect me to guess it, I asked if it had an 'N' in it. Yes or no?"

She couldn't help herself. She chuckled. He had changed in the last year. He'd become a lot more verbally combative and she like it. "No."

"Oh, goody. Only 25 more letters to go." He got up and walked back into the cabin, heading for the coffee pot and then to the table where his laptop was set up. He sat down and started entering his chapter into MS Word, waiting to see what came next. He really wanted to find his Colt before this went on much longer.

He deliberately sat with his back to the door, inviting whatever action she might initiate. He didn't have to wait long. She walked up behind him, not caring that he could hear her but probably not at all aware that he could see her outlined form reflected in the oven door glass. He tensed when she raised her hand but relaxed when he saw she was just ruffling her hair. She had short hair. He hadn't run across many female agents with short hair.

She rested her left hand on his shoulder and he glanced over at it. She was wearing an engagement ring, again unusual for an active agent, and red nail polish. They must have dragooned her for this mission. Was she even an agent?

"Whatcha writin'"? A lot of reduction in her speech pattern. Another uncommon trait among agents where clarity of communication was important.

"A chapter in a novel. It's therapy. I…lost my memory a while back and for some unknown reason I dream my past. My ex suggested that I write them all down and read them to her as some kind of therapy. I thought I was going crazy. She liked them and so I kept on writing the dreams until I ended up with a novel. I changed names around and stuff like that, anything that might be considered classified. It got published and here I am, dreaming me a new raft of memories every night, almost every night. Sometimes the gods smile on me and I don't dream."

"Your ex? What happened?"

"I was going one way and she wanted to go another. She said she didn't want to invest any more time in someone she _couldn't _love. She was big on relationships and very aware of her time. She was an entrepreneur and very much caught up in running her own business. Lou gave me a lot of her time and never asked for much from me. I guess she didn't get much, either."

"It ended badly then?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess you could say that. I'm a poor judge of character when it comes to women. Not a lot of experience and what I had has taught me a lot, but I just keep making the same mistakes over and over."

"NSA agents aren't known for making mistakes, even with women." She was fishing for reasons, hints into this mindset.

"I'm just an asset. I failed…well, let's just say a certain General is rather perturbed with me and let it go at that. Look, I really want to finish this and although I find this conversation thrilling, I have to finish this and then do some editing. That was Lou's strength and Sar…and another agent's also. At least I picked good editors."

"Can I help? I majored in English Lit with a minor in Romance Languages. I'm sure you're tired after…all that boozing."

Chuck jumped at the idea. He'd go back up to the loft and find his Colt and then come back down and get answers from Agent English Lit.

"That'd be great. Put your comments in red and save it all. Power down and I'll look at it in the morning. Thanks. I am tired."

He looked at her profile in the dim light. Elegant. The haircut suited her as did the color. He walked upstairs to the loft slowly, as if weary. He _was _tired. He'd have to cut back on the booze now that he had apparently regained a handler. How the hell did they find him?

* * *

He found his Rolex and noted the time. He also found his Colt under a towel on the dresser. Someone had moved it. He checked that the magazine was loaded and that there was one 'up the spout' and rechecked the safety and slipped it into the waistband of his shorts. He found his cell phone and went into the bathroom and called Augi.

"Chuck, is everything alright there? Having any problems?"

"No, I was just wondering if anyone has asked about me, y'know, where I might be?"

"Lou hasn't called Chuck, I'm sorry. You really can't run away from your problems, Chuck. Lou's good for you. Really. I'm sure she's just scared. She wants a commitment and you're not sure. Give her time."

"Too late for that. She made it pretty clear to me yesterday morning that it was over. Anyhow, thanks for taking my call."

* * *

Mobile Command Post

He closed off the speaker and leaned back in his chair. 'Lou might be a key to speeding up the recovery process'. He'd include it in his report when he talked to Beckman in the morning. He reread Chuck's latest chapter looking for some hint of where his friend's mind was. Walker was moving slowly, letting him accept her, not pushing for a change.

He checked in with his teams and then called it quits for the night.

* * *

Augi's Cabin

Sarah couldn't help it. She'd read the entire chapter and started to cry after reading the final closing line. She'd been angry with him and wanted to hurt him as badly as he'd hurt her. Apparently she'd succeeded beyond her wildest dreams. Her actions had been deliberately cruel. His actions were the result of having 2.0 shoved into his head and his lack of emotional control over flashing.

Now he knew he wasn't an agent. Now he knew she'd been ready to leave it all behind and be with him but he reintersected himself and even that was a disaster. He knew she'd been sleeping with a mark and when he'd tried to protect her, she'd struck him with such anger that she'd knocked him out.

And then she'd been ordered to train him and she turned that into a personal vendetta, cutting him to the quick with every comment, ridiculing him because he couldn't flash because he couldn't control his emotions. He knew she'd tried to leave him behind, to isolate him from missions and the team. He knew the bitch she'd become.

Oh, God. The worst was yet to come.

Chuck slipped quietly down the steps into the kitchen but stopped, revising his plan and putting the pistol away. She was sobbing quietly, upset over something obviously very personal to her. As usual, he felt a frisson of guilt but quickly shook it off.

"Agent Unknown, are you OK?"

She sniffed and turned her head away from him. She never liked crying. It was a sign of emotional instability and lack of control.

"I'm fine. Don't concern yourself. I've finished editing and done a couple of changes to the 'voice', moving from passive to active voice. Here, read it and let me know what you think." She got up and walked over to the coffee pot forcing herself to become an agent again when all she wanted to do was hold him and apologize for being such a bitch.

He quickly read the chapter, noting her changes and agreeing with her that they were improvements. "Great job. I like the changes. Maybe we could talk about the reason for the changes and I'll be more aware of them when I write. Make things easier for both of us."

"Let me read the chapters you've already submitted and bring me up to speed on the themes and plot and then maybe we could talk? I'm really not tired and it would give me something constructive to do."

He leaned over and opened the directory for the submitted chapters and then straightened up. Cinnamon. She smelled of cinnamon. He had wanted to smell vanilla. He wanted her to be… never mind.

"There you go, Agent. I'm going back to bed. I run in the morning so if you come over about 9 or 10 I'll have something for you to edit. Good night."

"Samantha."

He turned, curious. "I'm sorry? What did you say?"

"My name. Samantha. Not Agent Unknown. Samantha."

"OK, Agent Samantha. Good night."

"Just Samantha, please?"

"Ok. Good night, Samantha."

She gave an exasperated sigh. He was being difficult on purpose. Pushing, testing, finding boundaries and areas of 'no need to know'.

She turned back to the laptop screen and opened up the first chapter of the third novel. Something was missing. "Hey, Bartowski! Where are author's notes in the front. It's become your signature."

"The jury's still out on that one. I haven't decided yet. The others were spontaneous. Well, the first one was. The second was a quote that Lou found for me on 'memory'. She listed about two hundred and that one was the one I picked."

He hadn't seen her face yet but her voice sounded so much like Sarah Walker that it was uncanny. But Sarah Walker had long blonde hair and icy blue eyes. This woman had short mousy brown hair and soft brown eyes. OK, not 'mousy' but not the rich dark coffee color of Ellie's or the deep mahogany of Lou's. This woman's hair was the color of ripening winter wheat.

* * *

Sarah read the chapters, seeing the recovery of many but not all of the memories leading up to the R&D lab fiasco. She read about the breakup and the stiff reconciliation, learned about his doubts and fears, and found herself crying again but not for her, but for him. He never felt part of the team, never felt he was contributing, rather that he was 'in the way'. It was reading about his thoughts on suicide if he was taken or captured that broke her heart.

'_I'll kill myself before being taken, either by my 'friends', Macy and Cole, or the enemy. Sometimes I think both are the same, I just know the two handlers better, that's all. They all want the same thing. There's very little difference between the enemy and my 'friends'. '_

She looked at the kitchen clock and made her decision. She shut down the computer and walked quietly up the stairs and into the bathroom. After a quick shower and eye drops since she'd been crying and the contacts were new, she slid into the bed and rolled on her side facing him. He was asleep. His lips were pressed tightly together in anger and his eyes were moving rapidly in REM. He was dreaming.

She moved over against him, pressing her naked body against his, running a line of kisses over his brow and down his cheek and then down his neck. She whispered that she loved him and that everything would work out. He just needed to trust her and have patience with the process. She fell asleep, dreaming of brown-haired children with brown and blue eyes. She smiled in her sleep.

He woke up confused and angry and shaking and he knew that he'd been crying in his sleep. _Real manly there, moron._ He could always count on the Colonel for support. NOT!

She was leaving with Shaw. Daniel 'Wooden Indian' Shaw. After all they'd been through, after he broke it off with Hannah, she was leaving with him. She…Sam…Goddamn her…she'd told Shaw her _real_ name. For three years he'd asked, begged, pleaded and cajoled for just a hint at her _middle_ name. How he wanted to hate her. But he couldn't. Not her. Casey had warned him but he hadn't listened. He hated loving her.

He felt someone lying against him and he recoiled in disgust and got out of the bed and walked into the bathroom. He needed to think. He needed…he needed what he couldn't have. Chuck Bartowski had slept with Hannah, led her on and then dumped her just as ruthlessly as Walker had disposed of him like he was a used tissue. Of course she wanted to date other people. She wanted Shaw, the Agent's Agent, not someone like him who tripped over his emotional feet.

He turned the hot water off and forced himself to stand in the freezing water and regain control of his emotions. Daniel Shaw. His hero and mentor. He'd looked up to him and Shaw had taught him so much. He couldn't teach him how flash. He couldn't teach him how to control his emotional turmoil that caused him to be so ineffective in using the advanced intersect.

He told him that his handlers weren't allowing him to develop and that he needed to rid himself of them and allow himself to fully develop his skills and capabilities.

All he'd really wanted was Chuck emotionally separated from Sarah Walker and now he had her. She was leaving with him, going to DC to take on the remnants of Fulcrum and the new enemy – the Ring. And he was staying behind, staying in the proverbial van while she once again became the master spy she'd always wanted to be. With him. Agent Superduperman.

He stepped out of the shower and dried himself off and then walked into the bedroom, ignoring a sleeping Samantha and quickly dressed in casual clothes. He glanced at the clock. He'd absorbed a hell of a lot of memories in a short 3 hours and he was too wired to go back to sleep. He put his Colt in his waistband and walked downstairs and out of the cabin into the chilly night.

He drove along the driveway up through the trees and then out to the main highway and drove towards the village he's been to his first day in Tahoe. There was no traffic and no distractions and his mind composed the chapter, inserted dialog but eliminated all references to classified items almost automatically.

When he was in the vault, trapped in the gas, she was monitoring and she must have heard him tell her why he'd picked up the 2.0 and why he couldn't leave with her in Europe. He told her he loved her but passed out from the effects of the gas before he could confirm that she'd heard him. She was leaving with Shaw so either she didn't care or didn't believe him. It didn't matter. She was leaving with Shaw. She didn't even tell him 'goodbye'.

"_Alpha, this is Delta. Lazarus is on the move, heading towards the main road at a fast pace. Advise."_

"_Keep on him. I'll check in with Barbie."_

"_Oh, shit. He's turning toward town. We're on him. We're not exactly dressed for a visit to the casino."_

"_Maintain a watch. I'll get Barbie up and dressed. Watch for the Porsche. Try and keep an eye on the moron. I doubt he can get into much trouble at 3am."_

She heard her cell phone and saw he was gone at the same instant.

"Walker, secure. Where is he, Casey?"

"If you were doing your job, Walker, you'd know that. Get dressed for a date at the casino. Bartowski's about 20 minutes ahead of you. My guys are shadowing but aren't dressed for a visit to a casino. Get your head in the game, Sarah."

She got dressed, brushed her hair out, put on makeup and was out the door in 10 minutes. She and Chuck were going to have a long talk about disappearing without her. It wasn't going to happen again if she had to duct tape him to the damned toilet while she slept.

APR


	11. They Talk But Do They Listen?

LifeTimesAddendum6

* * *

He headed for the bar of the almost-empty casino. It was early and it was a work day for normal folks. He ordered his whiskey and water and then walked over to check out the tables. He enjoyed Blackjack and they were still using 2-deck shoes. Good odds. He sat and played a few hands, betting $5 then $10 or $20. He won a few hands and then walked over to the poker tables.

At this hour there were only 3 games going. He paid his 'buy in' and sat down and looked at the other players. The obvious 'pro' at the table was a 60-ish woman with bad eyes who smoked constantly. The others looked like prey to him.

He anted up and drew a pair of jacks. The biggest loser had a real tell. His hand shook when he got a decent hand. The 'pro' didn't even pick up her cards, just peeked at them and then sat back and began calculating odds. She bet $50 and the two losers folded but the biggest loser just smiled and called the bet. Chuck saw the bet and bet another $50 and this pissed off the old 'pro'. He wasn't playing the game fairly. He wasn't letting her win.

She saw the bet and then raised Chuck $100 earning her a warning from the pit boss that the maximum raise was $50.

"Go ahead, let her. I don't mind." The biggest loser threw in his hand in disgust and got up and walked away. Chuck and the 'pro' looked at each other and smiled.

Chuck nodded to the pit boss and saw her raise and added another $100 to the pot. Old 'pro' grinned figuring to scalp this turkey and go home with her next month's rent.

She matched his raise and called. The dealer asked for cards. She took 1 and Chuck took 3, earning him a grin from the old bat. Yep, her rent for the next month was paid.

Chuck drew 2 more jacks and a trey. He sighed and laid his cards down and leaned back catching a cocktail waitress's eye and asking for a whiskey and water.

The old 'pro' watched him like a hawk. He was playing a conservative game, raising when appropriate for someone with three of a kind. She had a full house, kings over 4's. The pot was her's for sure. But she got greedy.

Chuck tipped the waitress with a $25 chip and sipped his third drink. Strong. Casinos did not cheapen their drinks figuring a drunken guest spent more, exercised poorer judgment and lost more often than they won.

The old 'pro', noticing a slight tremor in his hand, bet $250 and the pit boss looked to Chuck for his approval as required. "Sure. I'll see it and raise you $250."

She glared at Chuck. He wasn't playing fair. He should have folded or called, not raised his bet. She saw his raise and called.

"Full house, sonny. Kings over fours." She actually 'cackled' and reached for the pot with both her clawed blue-veined hands.

"Two pair." She grabbed the pot and started raking it in when she heard "A pair of jacks and another pair of jacks."

"You mother fu-"

"C'mon, granny. It's poker. He won, fair and square. Let loose of the chips and play nice or I'll suspend you for a week." The pit boss took no shit from anyone.

Sarah Walker was standing behind Chuck watching the byplay. She'd found him just as he left the blackjack table and strolled over to the poker tables. She didn't play poker although she certainly knew how the game was played.

He flipped the dealer a $25 chip and thanked the pit boss for his courtesy and turned around, almost spilling his drink when he collided with Samantha.

"$1,100 pot. Nice playing there, Chuck. A little adventurous but nicely done anyway. Is that your first drink?"

"What do you want, Sam? I'm just letting off a little steam. I had a rough night and today will be hell because I have to write it all down. You're not my mother, so don't try and tell me what I can and can't do unless you wish to formally define our relationship and announce your true position in our 'arrangement'. You're so obviously not an editor."

"Not here, honey. Let's go get some breakfast. Your treat since you obviously can afford it." She put her arm through his and they headed for the cashier's window to cash in the chips and then to the buffet. He'd called her Sam so either he knew who she was or he'd reached that point in his recovery that he used it just because he knew it was short for 'Samantha'.

Chuck finished his drink and ordered a carafe of coffee. He basically pushed his food around. He wasn't in the mood for food or conversation.

"Chuck, you asked about my true position in 'our relationship'. Well, I'll tell you. Look at me, please, when I talk with you. It's rude not to make eye contact."

She looked enough like Sarah to be her sister. Same bone structure, facial features and smile. He wondered if she…nah. No way.

"My position hasn't been defined yet. The Powers That Be are considering options for us. Let's just say that for now, at least, I'm your partner."

"No! No fucking way!" He started to get up from the table, pissed off at everything and everyone.

"Chuck, calm down. Please sit down. And keep your voice down, please?"

He sat down and drank his coffee, looking like he was preparing to rip her head off. She leaned back and folded her hands on the table to allow her body language to say 'I'm not going to attack you, I want to talk'.

"OK, _partner, _talk. Explain to me why this is even happening? Let's start with 'how did you find me' and move on from there, shall we?"

"Chuck, don't be so defensive. I'm not here to be anything more than a – a – companion, a sounding board and hopefully, a friend when you need one. You need one, Chuck. You've isolated yourself from friends and family, you have no one to support you emotionally now that you've broken up with your girlfriend, and no one else was available, so here I am."

"So I'm so important that they drag you away from something probably a lot more important and then tell you 'be his shoulder to cry on'? Jesus, don't those people have any respect for me at all? I know I've failed repeatedly and I know that almost everything I touch turns to shit but…but…"

She reached across the table and took his hands in hers. She could feel the coiled emotions as his hands trembled slightly. "You haven't failed at anything. You just don't remember everything yet. Trust me, Charles Bartowski, when I tell you that you succeed where most would fail. You just haven't remembered those things yet. Trust me on this. Have patience. You will remember and I'll help you anyway I can."

"How did you find me?"

"Once we confirmed you were alive, a reinforced surveillance team was assembled and assigned to you. They were instructed not to interfere unless you were going to be taken or injured in some way. All they did was watch, nothing more. What happened between you and your girlfriend was between the two of you. No surveillance in the apartment."

"My sister and brother-in-law? They knew all about this? Do they know what I do for the government?"

"A bare-bones awareness only. Nothing that would put them in danger although your sister was pretty vocal about the need for secrecy. She'd already purged Sarah Walker physically from your life even going so far as to maintain the façade that she and Devon hadn't married yet. It was a great sacrifice for her."

"I'm sure it was. Was Lou in on it? Was she a part of all this? Was any of it real? Is – is Lou a spy?"

"No, Lou is a straight civilian although she was in league with Ellie about keeping you in the dark about your…about Sarah Walker. Lou went along with it because she had no idea what your 'dreams' really were. She did it for purely selfish reasons. She didn't want to lose you to someone you'd already 'lost' but couldn't remember."

"At least something was real. Lou and I. Everything else in my life since getting this gift has been false."

"Sometimes people can't be honest with the ones they love, Chuck. Sometimes it just isn't possible. Sometimes it would put their loved ones in mortal danger. Sometimes, Chuck, sometimes people are just stupid and unfair to people they love. It isn't unique to spies. Civilians do it all the time."

She desperately wanted to say _'Look at me! Really look at me! Don't you see me? Can't you hear what I'm saying to you?_"

Chuck was holding her hand in his, rubbing small circles in her palm with his thumb. It felt so comfortable to do so. She had beautiful hands with long delicate fingers and painted nails. She looked more like a professional, like a lawyer or banker than a spy. She must have aced spy school.

Sarah felt like throwing herself across the table and just hugging him and never letting go. He had no idea how intimate his actions were and how this most casual physical contact was affecting her. She needed to dial it down a notch, regain her composure and get the conversation back on track.

"Chuck, about this temporary partnership, and your reaction. It's temporary, I can assure you. You'll be finished with this nightmare and you'll realize so much, honey. You're almost there. Trust me, Chuck. I'll be here for you like no one else ever has been. Now, eat your breakfast. You didn't keep a lot of dinner down last night."

He tried to each but he just had too many thoughts banging into each other to concentrate on eating. He drank coffee and occasionally glanced up and caught the agent staring at him with a sense of – 'longing'?

"Is there something wrong, Samantha? You keep staring at me like I've got something hanging from my nose."

She laughed and drank some of her own coffee. _'Get your head in the game, agent. He's a trained agent even if he doesn't remember it. He's smooth and slippery and you better stay focused.'_

"No, no boogers hanging, Chuck. I was just trying to imagine what your life's been like these past months. You gain back a part of yourself every night and that must make you uncomfortable at times. I think I'd dread going to sleep knowing some of the things I've done but might have forgotten."

"Very perceptive, Samantha. Yeah, sometimes I really hate going to sleep. I think that's why I've fallen in league with alcohol. It softens the harsh realities. Makes all life's sharp edges a little less cutting. I know what you're going to say, but no, it's not a dependency. Not yet, anyways. Hopefully I'll be 'up to date' before my liver goes."

Her hand shot across the linen table cloth and grabs his. "You're not an alcoholic, Charles Bartowski. You're just a man facing himself without all the usual filters the rest of us have."

He was surprised at the vehemence in her tone. Surprised and touched. Spies don't ever show such real and raw emotion. She must be just a very talented analyst…or maybe a shrink with a little espionage training?

"The worst times are the memories where I've cratered and someone has been hurt or injured and I've failed…again. If there's a common thread lately in the dreams it's failure. And disappointment. It's the disappointment others feel in me that hurts the most. It just seems like the harder I try the worse things end up."

"Chuck, the people you dream or remember, they're professionals with training and experience you haven't had and yet you perform their roles and pull off their ops. I've…read…yeah, I've read some of the mission reports. You disarm bombs, outsmart enemy agents, thwart wars and terror attacks. You even flew a helicopter and landed it safely. All with no training."

"Then why did she leave me and go with Shaw? Why could she love Bryce and Barker and Shaw but never me? What's so wrong with me? I'll tell you. In her eyes, and probably in yours, I'm just a thing that they have to use, to put up with, to get things done. That's all. I'm just a tool in any sense of the word. Hell, even Lou got out as quickly as she could."

"Chuck, that's just not true. You're a valuable asset and a kind and funny and caring man that any woman would love to have in her life."

She could tell he'd flashed on something because his speech faltered and his eyes glazed over for just a second or two.

In a strangled and almost whispered voice he gave her a key and an ultimatum. "She couldn't even tell me her middle name, not a hint in 3 years. Not one hint. Yet she told him her first name within days of meeting him. She was right when she said that I couldn't hurt her anymore. She meant I'd cut her heart out and there was nothing left to hurt. I felt that way for years. I feel that way again."

She could see him flash again.

"She lied to me, again and again. I gave her everything I could, everything she asked for and she gave me…nothing."

APR - Brighter times are on hand.


	12. Dream A Little Dream of Dying

LifeTimesAddendum7

* * *

Note: This is a continuation of the restaurant conversation. APR

* * *

"I'm leaving, Samantha whoeveryouare. You tell your masters that I'm defining things my own damned way. I didn't realize it until just this minute that I've been stuck on stupid for the last few days. Now, advise your 'team' to stay clear of me."

"Chuck, please. You don't understand, honey. Please."

"I understand things just fine, Sam. I'm leaving. Don't make the mistake others have made and think I'm an emotionally overwrought bag of complexities and neuroses because I'm not. I know who and what I am. That's good enough for me. It was just not good enough for her."

He threw $20 on the table and walked rapidly out into the casino and then out into the parking lot leaving a stunned Sarah/Samantha wondering what the hell had just happened.

"Casey, secure. What's up with Chuck?"

"I think he's on his way back to Burbank to me. He's confused and feeling cut off and out of touch. He wouldn't let me talk with him about us at all. He doesn't even recognize me although I've caught him staring at me, making comparisons between me and my other self."

"Follow him but stay away for now. Let's see what he's up to. If he heads back to the cabin, I'll have someone disable the Rover and that'll keep him in the area at least until you can calm him down."

She walked out into the parking lot just in time to see him tear out onto the main road like he was being chased by the Devil. In a way, he was.

She easily caught up with him but then dropped back, not wanting to be caught in some move he might pull to 'duck his tail'. She needn't have worried. He was driving like a man possessed, with one hand on the wheel and the other dialing his phone.

"Ellie, Chuck. I'm at Lake Tahoe. Listen, I need you to answer a question for me. One simple question. Before I got hurt and went into the Land of the Stupid, where did I live? More importantly, who did I live with?"

"I know it's two questions. Yes, I know I haven't called you lately. Yes, I know what time it is. Yes, I know I'm an insensitive bastard. Eleanor Faye Woodcomb, answer one of them." She answered both of them.

He had his answer. Now he needed a plan.

Ellie was calling Sarah, afraid that she'd somehow screwed up her plan. "Hey, Ellie, I'm a little busy…"

"Chuck just called me. He wanted to know where or with whom he was living before his accident. I told him, Sarah. I didn't know what else to do. I hope I didn't screw anything up."

"No. I'll adjust. It's OK. Did he say anything else at all?"

"He said 'I'm surrounded by lying women who expect me to trust them' and then he just hung up."

Sarah hung up on Ellie and dialed John Casey.

"Where are you?"

"About 200 yards behind Chuck. He knows, Casey, he knows or he's about to figure it all out. He called Ellie and asked her who he was living with before the accident."

"Oh, shit."

"Yeah. My sentiments, exactly. I'm going to tell him everything, Casey and then we're done. I can't lie to him anymore. No more role playing. No more Chuck the asset and Sarah the agent."

"I'll support whatever you do, Sarah. You know that."

Chuck drove down the driveway through the trees at twice the speed he would normally have driven. He wasn't going to let another second keep him from confronting the lying bitch. He'd grab his shit and be in Burbank in 5 hours, less if he ran the risk of being stopped.

He pulled up in front of the cabin and ran inside. He threw his clothes into a bag and grabbed his laptop and was back in the Rover in less than 15 minutes.

Sure, she'd gone with Shaw. But she'd come back. They were living together before the accident. He was slowly remembering things like having wild sex in Paris in a hotel room and running around like a wild man on a train. He cringed when he remembered shooting Daniel Shaw to death on a bridge in Paris. She'd lied to him about everything and then had the balls to ask him to trust her?

He turned the key and all it did was click. The damned battery or starter was fubared. Shit! He jumped out of the truck and opened the hood. He couldn't see anything wrong. Wait! Someone had taken the battery cables. He reached under his jacket and pulled out the Colt. Bastards!

He took his laptop back into the cabin and sat down at the kitchen table to think. He heard the whine of Samantha's Porsche as she downshifted and pulled to a stop beside the Rover. He waited until she stepped into the cabin and then he hit 'send' on his cell phone. Her ring tone sounded and she reached for her purse and stopped when Chuck held up his cell phone. She could hear the sound of ringing coming from it. Busted.

"Why the charade? Why the lies and bullshit, Agent Walker? You have 30 seconds to explain yourself. Start talking." His Colt was lying on the table within easy reach.

"I'm really not sure where to start, Chuck. I left with Daniel and came back with you. We moved in together and then we took on the Ring R&D infiltration and you know exactly what's happened since then. Those are the major points. I'll fill in the blanks when we get home."

"That's not good enough, Agent Walker. Why is the Director of the NSA so keenly interested in the memories of one loser agent? Everyone knows I can flash again so it's not recapturing the intersect. Why didn't you just come to me and tell me this? Why all the cloak and dagger? What is it you people really need from me?"

"We…we need a list of names that you read and memorized in the R&D Lab's Admin computer. It was a list of all the Ring double-agents, contacts, and facilitators in North America. You committed it to memory because it was encoded with some sort of anti-copy thing and then we got separated and the Ring security force cut us off by blowing the power cable. You know the rest."

"Finally, someone tells me the unvarnished truth. OK. I don't know why Casey just didn't ask me for the information when I ran into him at Ellie's. I will probably remember it given time. Go back to wherever you were before my 'resurrection', Walker, and I'll inform Beckman when I remember. No point in you sitting around wasting your talents. I'm sure…"

"I can't. I have a commitment. I'm engaged to my partner. That trumps everything else."

She walked slowly towards Chuck. "I love him."

"A lot must have happened in the year I was dead."

"Yes, a lot happened. None of it good until this guy hands me a ring and says 'Marry me when I remember you' and now he remembers me. He knows that we were lovers in every sense of the word. He never heard me say it. Never heard me say 'I love you, Chuck' back, not until that day in the R&D center and I've been haunted because he died before I said it back. He died without knowing that I loved him."

"Why didn't you just say 'we were living together before the accident'? Wouldn't it have made things simpler? I see Beckman's claw in this."

"The shrinks thought it would get in the way of recovering your memories so I came back and started from scratch. I love you, Chuck, more than anything. We'll go to Vegas as soon as you get the missing pieces of memory back."

She starts unbuttoning her blouse and pulls it out of the waistband of her slacks. She speed dials a number on her cell and say only one word: "Off!"

"I feel sleepy, Chuck. I'm going back to bed for a bit. Join me?" The slow smile on her face sends his blood rushing south.

"I have to get the chapter down before things gets confused. Rain check?"

"What! What did you say?" She's annoyed, moving towards pissed.

"I said I have to get the notes down in the computer before I get confused. I need to do my duty, Agent Walker. You understand the concept, don't you?"

"How long will it take? I didn't have time for a shower this morning because someone tore out of here like his pants were on fire."

"Sarah?"

"Yeah, honey?"

"Loose the contacts but keep the hair. It's shorter than I've ever seen it but the length and color suit you. You don't look like a government whore anymore. I wish you'd have done it sooner. I like the 'real' Sarah, even if her name isn't Sarah. I can live with it. The question is, can you?"

There was a rebuke in there, subtle and refined, that said he wished she hadn't slept with marks, that 'who she really was' was who he loved and that he wanted her to stay but that it was up to her.

"So do you like the real 'Samantha' as much as you did the blonde Sarah? Hair this short is less attractive to men but is a hell of a lot easier to handle."

"Your days of 'attracting men' are over, Sarah, Samantha, whoever you call yourself in your own mind. You attracted your last one and once I remember the list, you're off the market and out of the whore game, understand?"

"I'm an agent, Chuck. It's what I am."

"You'll be my wife, that's who you'll be. Off the market, understand? No screwing the marks. We'll draft Carina."

She laughed and walked upstairs to the loft. A shower, a nap, then some 'us' time. She wondered if he remembered the book they bought in Paris?

Chuck finally finished his writing, saved it to disk and then shut down the laptop. He walked out onto the porch and looked out over the lake. _'I'm rich now. I think I'll buy one of these places so we'll have somewhere to go when it gets too much.'_

He walked back inside the cabin, secured the door and set the alarm and then went up and took a shower. He was brushing his teeth when he really looked at his reflection. It wasn't really him he saw reflected back at him. The damned beard had to go.

Her short hair had a definite advantage as far as he was concerned. Easy access to the places he loved to nibble on. He loved her long patrician neck, the softness of her skin and especially the hollow formed by the junction of neck and shoulder. It was one of his most favorite areas because it was her most accessible erogenous zone.

"Mmm, that feels sooo good. I missed your lips on my neck, honey. Oh, yes, and there, too." She loved feeling his smooth cheek against her…

"Chuck! You shaved off your beard? Why?" She had daydreams about how his beard would feel against her skin, especially between…

"You cut your hair. Besides, it itched. Well, mostly because I didn't want to scratch your skin." Actually, it itched. And he didn't really like the beard.

"So Beckman thought if you just walked back into my life and said 'we've been shacking up for the past six months' that I would have quit trying to recapture my memories? That's lame, even for a general."

"She listened to the shrinks. I wanted to tell you so badly at the airport but I had orders, Chuck. It killed me to move back into that hotel knowing that our apartment was just a few blocks away, just waiting for us to move back in."

"Wait, you kept our apartment? But I was dead. Why would you pay rent and not live there?"

"Because when things got really bad, like how you felt when you called your life a soap opera, I'd slip away for a few days and recover. It became my secret place. I would lie in bed and surround myself with your junk and somehow it helped. Stupid, huh?"

"Not to me it doesn't. It sound logical and it's exactly what I'd do."

"Chuck, I meant what I said downstairs. I am tired and you are too. Let's take that nap and then I want to see just how much you remember about our time in Paris. So, let me assume my 'snuggle position' and then we'll see what life brings us next."

It was a bad one. She was hurled out of sleep by his scream of pain and she fumbled for her pistol before she realized he was convulsing.

He was dreaming about the R&D Center. He was dreaming about the power room. He was dreaming about dying.

His back was arched off the bed and his hands were held in front of him slightly apart. He screamed again and then collapsed on the bed. He didn't appear to be breathing.

Sarah scooped up her cell and called Casey and he answered with "I heard. EMTs should be there about…"

There was a crashing sound as the door to the cabin was knocked open and three EMTs in combat gear rushed up the steps and surrounded him, ignoring Sarah except for one EMT who threw her a blanket from the bed. She'd been sleeping naked hoping for a different awakening.

"No breath signs. In shock. BP bottoming out. Bag him and lets go with Epi to start." The EMT plunged a cardiac needle into Chuck and injected a solution to restart his heart.

His heart began beating again on its own after a second jolt from the defibrillator.

The entire scenario was exactly how it had happened in the R&D Center except that it had been Sarah and Casey instead of EMTs who'd kept him alive until the EMTs got there.

"Agent Walker, that was weird. He has no prior history of heart problems yet this one was like a massive coronary."

"He was electrocuted on a mission a year ago. Heart stopped then, too."

"We'll have him transported to Carson City. We've got a secure facility there. You might want to get dressed, agent, if you're coming along with us." He was not snickering or making a lewd or suggestive comment. This guy was all business and she appreciated it.

"Give me 2 minutes."

* * *

She and Casey both flew with Chuck to the Carson City facility maintained by the Combine. Casey had reported the incident to Beckman by phone from the medivac chopper. Her only concern was if they'd gotten the list of names out of him before he had his 'attack'.

"No, ma'am. It occurred in his sleep."

"Stay with him. The minute he regains consciousness, ask about the list."

Casey threw his cell phone down on the chopper deck beside Chuck's stretcher. Neither Casey nor Sarah was wearing headphones but she could read lips. Beckman!

Fearing the worst, she felt for her knives and weapon. No one was taking him away from her again. No one.

* * *

APR


	13. Repeat As Necessary

LifeTimesAddendum8 – The Last One

* * *

He would never get tired of waking up to find her curled up, her head on his chest and the rest of her snuggled against him. He loved the vanilla scent of her hair and he never tired of the rest of her, either.

He glanced at the alarm clock and realized it was late but then settled back down because it was Sunday.

Sunday mornings were special. If they were home, he'd always sneak out and cook her an omelet and toast, make coffee and bring her breakfast in bed and together they'd read the Sunday L.A. Times.

It was a memory, not a dream.

It wasn't Sunday. He didn't know where he was. The woman curled up against him smelled of cinnamon and was a shorthaired brunette. Oh, shit! He tried to remember the last memories he had of the previous evening but all he could remember was terrible pain and her voice telling him that she loved him, too. Finally.

So where was he and who was the woman currently drooling on his chest? The room was small and…crap…heart monitor. It wasn't his alarm that woke him. It was the damned beeping of the monitor. Where was he and why was he hooked up to all that junk?

He knew who he was. Didn't he? He was…he was Charles Bartowski and he lived in Los Angeles, well, Burbank, but most people had no idea where Burbank was. He was 29? He remembered his 29th birthday. They'd been apart. Way apart. She wasn't talking to him. She hated him. She was with…anyone but him.

No, that wasn't right. They'd made love in Paris and almost everywhere else they could find a private spot. They'd moved in together. He'd killed someone. He'd killed several someones. He was an agent. Yeah. An agent. And they'd moved in together in an apartment that he would have hated if she hadn't been the one to pick it out.

He'd killed Daniel Shaw to save Sarah. Where was she?

All this took less than 30 seconds. If asked, he'd have said he'd been thinking for hours. The brunette sighed in her sleep and hugged him closer to her, his 'free' hand was held in hers in a death grip. He tried to pull his hand loose but she mumbled 'NO! Don't' so he didn't.

He closed his eyes and started 'writing' the final chapter of the third novel. His thoughts became more organized and he realized that he was writing memories, not fiction, but had renamed Casey and Walker as well as himself and the General. He referred to the intersect as the 'database' and he had to stop himself from 'writing' at some point in an operation to infiltrate a Ring R&D Center.

His chest ached and his hands hurt and then burned with a terrible heat. He heard the heart monitor begin to wail and the brunette instantly woke and leaped off the bed and ran from the room.

He couldn't breathe. He was gasping for breath and the brunette returned towing a guy in scrubs who was followed by several nurses.

"Agent Bartowski, I need you to calm down. It's OK. You're fine. You just had a flashback to something that happened a long time ago. You're having a panic attack, that's all but on top of yesterday, we don't want to risk any damage to the heart muscle so I'm giving you a sedative to help you relax and go back to sleep."

"N – No! No! Where am I? Sarah? Where's Sarah? Sarah? Who are you people? Sarah?"

"Chuck, calm down, honey. It's OK. You're in a hospital. These people are Combine staff. I'm right here and I'm not going to leave your side until we can walk out of here together. Now, deep breaths and remember you're OK. The R&D lab was a long time ago. We're together."

She nodded to the doctor who injected the IV port with the sedative and then reset the monitors and checks the sensors.

She walked out into the corridor and spoke with the doctor.

"This is the third episode. We can't keep doping him up and expect him to be OK. You know his history. We have to do something different. We have to keep him awake long enough to listen to an explanation of the situation."

"Agent, this shot is just a band aid. You need to get through to him during one of his lucid periods so that he knows the situation. You're right. We can't keep shooting him up. That was the last time. You have to get through to him before he has a total breakdown or worse, a real heart attack. The stress on him is incredible."

She resumed her position. When she got stiff, she'd shift to the other side but she never let go of his hands and never broke contact for more than a minute or two. Not even when Casey dropped by.

* * *

Four hours later he woke up and smelled cinnamon, flashed through a horrible series of memories and started to hyperventilate again. He was in a blind panic, reliving the R&D lab, and no one knew why.

"Chuck, stop this, please! You're going to die if you don't calm down. You're going to die and leave me all alone again. I need you to stay with me, Chuck. I love you, baby, and I'll never leave you. Listen, LISTEN! Focus on me. I'm Sarah Walker. We're going to get married just like I promised you and just like you demanded of me. I need you to stop killing yourself. I need you to focus and listen. Deep breaths, honey. Deep breaths. That's it. Ok, now listen…"

She told him everything. She told him about him dying and then coming back and slipping into a coma. She told him she'd been reassigned and had to leave him. The doctors said he was slipping into a vegetative state and finally the NSA gave up. Someone screwed up the paper work and he was reported dead when he was actually released to Ellie's care.

"Chuck, you lost everything from the date Bryce sent you the intersect until the R&D op against the Ring. You started dreaming but they were really memories. You thought you were going crazy but Lou told you to write them down. You published a book and somehow you threw out enough hints that Casey found you."

"Wait, wait. I wrote a book? I was with Lou? Oh, crap. I was with Lou? Why?"

"Two books, but that's not important right now. You didn't remember me or the spy life. Ellie shielded you from any information or situations that might have hinted at my existence. I don't blame her, Chuck. She never knew how deeply we, well, she didn't know it was a real thing under the cover."

"But…"

"Shh. You met Lou, dated and then moved in together. Casey found out you were alive. He called me and I left my assignment and flew back to you the next day.

"We met again. At the airport. You said that you bought an engagement ring for a girl but wanted to give it to the woman you loved…me…the one you gave your mom's bracelet to."

She held up her hand and wiggled her fingers, proudly showing off the ring. The she held up her right hand and showed him the bracelet.

"You didn't remember me, us, at all but you had faith in us and our love for each other and you gave me the engagement ring telling me that someday when you remembered you loved me, you'd ask me to marry you."

"I hated our apartment in Burbank. I made you breakfast every Sunday morning that we were home. We read the newspaper in bed. I told you I loved you every chance I got but you never told me that you loved me. Not once. Not one time."

"I know. I was scared. I didn't want to commit to us. I didn't want to surrender my independence to an emotion. I was wrong, baby, and told you I loved you right before you grabbed the cables. I love you, Chuck. Now, do you remember me?"

"Cinnamon instead of vanilla. You had brown eyes in my dreams. Sarah, do want to be Samantha?"

"I'll be whoever you want me to be. But first and foremost, I really want to be Mrs. Charles Bartowski."

"You drool in your sleep. Little puddles of spit all over my chest."

"Do not!"

"Do too!"

"You hog the covers when it's cold and expect me to be your big hot water bottle."

"Yeah, I do."

"You get really pissed if I leave the toilet seat up."

"Yeah, guilty."

"You went off with Daniel Shaw and I fooled around with Hannah but broke it off. You still went off with him."

"Yeah, I did. Those were dark days for us, Chuck."

"I killed Daniel because he was trying to kill you. I'm sorry for that. Did you love him, Sarah?"

"No, I didn't love him. I just wanted someone and he wanted me when you didn't. He was…convenient. And then he became a threat. You tried to warn me but I wouldn't listen. In Paris you…you saved me, Chuck. He would have killed me in Paris."

"You painted your nails, Sarah. Red. I like them. I like your short hair, too. The color is very much you, too. Don't change, baby. I'll adapt. My blonde Ninja spy girl just got hotter."

"Sarah, I remember the names of the Fulcrum and Ring double agents. I remember all that stuff. Go get some paper before I forget."

* * *

"Beckman, secure. What is it, Colonel Casey?"

"Ma'am, he's given us the list of the double agents and contacts. He also gave us the location of four more R&D nodes. Two are in existing pharmaceutical companies that are Ring fronts, the other two are in…government facilities. They're under our very noses, subverting our work and in some cases, sabotaging it."

"Excellent. And his mental and physical condition?"

"Physically, he's pushing a lot of blood. His BP is high and the medics here say he needs a stand-down or he'll pop a vessel. Mentally, he's Chuck Bartowski. What you see is what you get."

"Tell him to take a month's leave. Walker is to accompany him. We'll work on his BP issues once he's back in Burbank. Disperse your teams and head back to DC for reassignment, Colonel. Excellent work."

"Yes, ma'am. I don't think orders are necessary for Agent Walker to accompany him. She's on him like a second skin. She was the one who pulled him through the last panic attack. They're going to get married unless I read the signs wrong."

"Excellent. They'll be a formidable team once again. Single or married, they'll wreak havoc on the Ring. That's all, Colonel Casey. Report to HQ for a reassignment. You're coming in, John. I need a deputy I can depend on to do what's necessary and you fit the bill. Oh, and tell Barton Charles I expect better treatment in the third novel. Tell him 'Her Wickedness desires it'. He'll understand. You know the second novel has finally made it to the Times Best Seller list. Quite an impressive achievement."

Casey had several rude thoughts. She should be damned glad Chuck was the forgiving type. From what he read in the drafts from the final novel 'Her Wickedness' doesn't fare too well. Chuck solved his problem with personal and personnel issues in a classic Bartowski manner: _he killed them off_.

* * *

Chuck was released the following evening after 24 hours without an 'event' and he and Sarah were driven back to Augi's cabin. Chuck didn't say much at all during the 1 hour trip but Sarah made up for it, chattering on about things they needed to do to prepare for their 30-day leave. Never once did she release his hand. Never once did he complain.

Chuck thanked the driver and joined Sarah in the cabin. It was spotless and there was a floral centerpiece and steaks marinating in the refrigerator as well as side dishes ready for the microwave. A note read 'Compliments of Team OverWatch'.

"Wasn't that thoughtful, Chuck?" Sarah was touched. There were a lot of good people in the NSA.

"Sarah, I hate to put a pall on things but we have to finish this chapter and then I have to write the conclusion. I already had one written but it's not what I want now. I'll make you a deal. You go shower and get changed into something ultra casual and I'll write the chapter and then while I shower you can edit and then we'll cook dinner together and see about working out the concluding chapter."

"Can I read the ending you already wrote, Chuck?" She wanted to know how it ended.

"No, no, I deleted it. I'll start from scratch. I've got 2 weeks to finish it. Shouldn't take an hour or two at the most. Then you can edit it and we'll email it to Augi and then we're driving back to Burbank. I want to see our apartment again, baby. I hated that place at first but now…it's home."

"Casey drove my car back to L.A. I won't need it since we have the Beast. Any thoughts on where we can go on our leave?"

He mumbled something and turned to set up the laptop and pull his CDs to edit and allow her to read the summaries.

"Chuck, do you have a preference?" She knew he heard her but she didn't catch what he mumbled.

"Sarah, I thought we were going to Vegas or is that out now that you and Casey have what you wanted?" It wouldn't be the first time she'd lied to him to accomplish a mission – either professionally or personally.

She walked up behind him and put her arms around him and kissed his cheek and whispered, "Why bother with Vegas? I saw a wedding chapel in town across from the casino. Maybe we can find an Elvis impersonator to marry us?"

He gave a Casey-like grunt.

"I love you, Chuck. Let's make it 'Mr. & Mrs. Bartowski' and write the damned novel after we get hitched?" She dragged him off his chair and put her arms around him. "If we both shower at the same time and I can keep my hands off you, we can be married and back here for the honeymoon in a few hours."

"But what about the dress and the photographs? I want you to have your dress and I want the pictures, just like we had as props back in the 'burbs when we shacked up and flushed out Fulcrum's intersect project."

She knew that things like her dress and their wedding portrait were important to Chuck. They shouted 'legitimacy' and considering their history, necessary in his world. She wracked her mind and pulled out her cell.

"Chuck, honey, go shower. I've got work to do. Wedding work."

"Casey, Sarah. John, I'm in trouble and I need a big favor…bigger than that…way bigger. I need a full-blown wedding in 24 hours. You're the best man so turn that car around and get back here. It's important to Chuck so it's important to me. Please? I'll hook you up with Carina, Casey, and this time you can bring the handcuffs and the feathers. Please?"

* * *

Maybe an Epic Epilogue - APR


End file.
